Perchance to Dream
by EvieMay
Summary: How does one tell reality from imagination, truth from lies, life from fantasy? Can the team solve the mystery or will Teyla slip into dreams forever... May contain spoilers up to and including Season Four, Vengeance
1. Chapter 1

**_Spoilers: Because of some similarities, this may contain spoilers up to and including Season Four, Vengeance._**

**_Rating: T for some mild language._**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of the characters associated with it._**

* * *

**Chapter One**

Teyla Emmagan adjusted her radio earpiece and checked the ammunition in her P90 sub-machine gun before giving her team leader, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, an affirmative nod. Sheppard sent her a series of hand signals then vanished into the dense tree line, the hulking form of Specialist Ronon Dex on his six, neither making a sound. She watched them go, trusting Ronon to guard Sheppard, or die trying.

Dr. Rodney McKay, her fourth teammate, huddled behind the remnants of a weathered, waist-high rock wall, his heavy breathing the only sound that disturbed the forest around them. She motioned him silent and hid a smile when he rolled his eyes at her. She poked her head above the uneven stones and studied the landscape. The trees loomed above them, burgundy leaves etched with shimmering veins turned in the light breeze, casting shadows on the mossy ground. The dampness soaked into her knees, and a chill slid along her spine. The lingering scent of decomposing vegetation did nothing to ease the rolling in her stomach. Her radio broke squelch twice, the signal that Sheppard and Ronon had assumed their positions on the opposite side of the clearing.

A ramshackle structure stood in the center of the clearing bracketed by wildflowers swaying in a serene breeze. Teyla studied the cabin as the psychological scent of her enemy drifted along her neural pathways. She despised Wraith, with their sharp teeth, feeding hand, and flowing white hair. They moved with a grace and agility that belied their true nature. No trusting them, as they would suck the life essence from one's chest faster than one could gasp for help. Sheppard called them vampires. Being Athosian and not of his world, she had not understood the reference until Sheppard had shown her some Earth movies. Vampire did seem an apt description.

Frigid tendrils seeped into her mind, stealing her breath; Dr. Beckett called it Wraith telepathy. Whatever the name, she felt a deep stirring as the Wraith in the woods sent out mental feelers. Teyla tolerated her hint of Wraith DNA, but today the curse served a purpose. She opened her mind and searched with her senses. She felt the presence of many Wraith tracking them from the trees. Inside the cabin, she sensed another presence, Wraith, and yet not--weak, possibly injured, angry. She signaled Sheppard, three steady breaks in squelch for first contact. After a few heartbeats, Sheppard broke squelch once followed by two more rapid static squawks, the 'get ready' signal. Teyla met McKay's wide eyes with a look meant to calm. Rodney acted high-strung on a normal day--add the Wraith and potential loss of his own life, and he tended to panic. She gripped his arm with a quick nod toward the clearing.

"Ready?" Her whispered question hung between them. She watched McKay struggle to harness his fear.

"Yes, yes, of course I'm ready. The highlight of any mission—plunging headlong into Wraithified hunting shacks with little to no back up. It's what I live for."

"Shh!" The man was impossible. "You will give away our position and ruin Colonel Sheppard's plan."

"Plan? You call this a plan? Four against, oh let's see, an unknown number of Wraith with little ammo and no way to get past them. Forgive me if I seem a bit defeatist."

Teyla angled her chin downward and pinned McKay with a hard glare. "We must be prepared or Colonel Sheppard and Ronon will not have back-up. There is only one Wraith in the cabin. The others are farther away, scouring the forest." She turned and faced the clearing just as the creature inside the structure sent out another psychic feeler. She gripped her P90 and squeezed her eyes shut against the invasive tidal waves.

Three rapid squelch clicks over the radio and her eyes snapped open. They had a 'go'. Teyla slipped out of the shrubbery and sprinted across the clearing. She made it half way there when a jagged telepathic twinge halted her forward motion.

_Help me!_

Teyla shook her head in an attempt to clear it and flexed her grip on the P90.

McKay swerved to avoid her, slipped on the dew-laden grass, and went down. Teyla grabbed the back of his tactical vest and hauled him to his feet. She struggled to take steady, even breaths, fighting the pull of the voice in her head. From a distance, she heard McKay, the panic in his whispered voice clear. At least he had remembered to whisper.

"Teyla, are you okay?"

"I am fine." She gave a mental shove, pinning the voice into a corner, and built a psychic barrier around it, reducing it to a faint murmur. She glanced at McKay. "Go." She pushed off and resumed her sprint toward the cabin, knowing McKay followed, her trust in these descendents of the Ancients unwavering.

As she rounded the front of the structure, gunfire erupted in the distance. The radio crackled to life.

"We have contact with Wraith. Proceed with the mission. We'll meet you at the cabin as soon as we kick a little ass. Sheppard out."

"What? We can't leave them to fight on their own. We have to go help." McKay slowed, his eyes trained on the outlying trees.

Teyla grabbed a handful of McKay's jacket and yanked him around to face her. "No, we must complete the mission. Colonel Sheppard and Ronon can handle themselves."

She climbed the stairs leading to the front door and took the position on the left; McKay took the right. At her nod, McKay threw open the door and she spun into the room, P90 sweeping the corners. McKay slid in behind her, mirroring her sweeping motion with a trembling grip on his own 9-millimeter Beretta pistol. Silver light filtered in through broken windows layered in dust, casting the room in muted shadows. Teyla pulled up, sharing a glance with McKay.

"Huh, there's no one here." McKay relaxed his stance and dropped the Beretta into his thigh holster. As he snapped the clasp over the handle to secure it, the sound echoed in the vacant room.

"Something is not right." Teyla turned a slow circle, studying the walls and floor. "Do not relax yet, Rodney. I sense a Wraith-like presence close by."

"Oh, well that's just great. Have they escalated from 'phantom' to 'invisible' powers?" McKay reached down, unsnapped his thigh holster, and notched up his chin. "How close... exactly?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Teyla caught movement in the rafters. She raised her P90 and fired at a blur of motion that dropped to the floor in front of her.

The assailant twisted the P90 from her grasp and flung it aside before zapping McKay with a Wraith stunner pistol. The blast knocked the astrophysicist backwards into the wall.

McKay's eyes rolled back in his head as his body slid down and landed in a heap on the floor, right hand cupped around the Beretta he'd managed to pull half way out of his thigh holster.

The assailant hovered over McKay. "Not invisible, just smarter than you."

Teyla lunged for her P90, but the assailant spun around, sensing her intent, and kicked away the weapon, blocking her path.

_Teyla, I do not wish to harm you or Dr. McKay. I seek your help._

Teyla froze. Her eyes traveled upward, over dirt-encrusted boots, leather clad legs and chest, reaching the face hidden in shadows.

"Do I know you?" She rose to her full height and tipped her head to the side.

_Quite well, actually._ The assailant stepped forward. Light seeped in from a hole in the roof, unveiling his face.

The air left her lungs, and a wave of dizziness crashed over her, tumbling her emotions as if they were mere pebbles on a mighty beach. "Michael... we thought you were-"

_Dead, yes I know. It suited me to let you think so--until now._

"What do you want?" Teyla met his eyes with what she hoped resembled a defiant glare. Defiance turned to outrage at his soft chuckle.

_Teyla, I do love your spirit. I look forward to expanding our relationship into one that we shall both savor._

"If you wish to 'expand our relationship' you will speak to me with real words, not inside my mind."

Michael shifted closer until she felt his leather coat brush against her TAC vest. He raised his hands and angled them near her temples, his gaze locking with hers. His hypnotic voice echoed in her mind as he dipped his face to within an inch of her own and inhaled her scent.

_It is easier to speak telepathically than waste breath and energy forming words. I thought you might appreciate the ability. I can see you are not yet comfortable with your Wraith gifts_.

Ice flooded her body as Michael breached her mental barrier. She attempted to pull away, but his golden eyes captured her. When he moved, she followed, caught by unseen binds, stopping when he stopped, the daylight from above illuminating her face.

_I do not possess Wraith gifts. _

_Ah, so you would have me believe, but your response is proof enough that you lie—unless I bring out the Wraith in you._ A sardonic tilt of his lips accompanied his thoughts.

Teyla struggled to look away, pushed against the pressure building inside her head, but could not break free. _I fail to see the humor in your comment. Please, release me so that we might speak normally._

Michael raised his hand and stroked her cheek with one pale finger. _We are speaking normally. It is a shame you reject such a natural part of yourself._ His hand fell away, but his gaze never wavered. _Teyla, trust me...please._

Relying on instinct, with a sigh, she closed her eyes and let him in.

"Teyla, open your eyes."

Teyla complied, surprised to find herself standing next to a human Michael in a meadow filled with the sight and scent of pawkesh, her favorite Athosian wildflower. The healers among her people had used the dusky, lavender blooms to ease anxiety; the women had made from the petals candles to burn when sleep eluded the restless. Her mental heaviness eased, allowing her to draw a ragged breath.

"What is this place?"

Michael bent and plucked a pawkesh, then straightened and handed her the flower. "Do you not recognize one of your memories, a safe place to which you retreat when necessary? I thought this way of communicating might be easier for you to accept."

"Why did you summon us with your distress call?" She raised the flower to her nose, inhaling the comforting smell of home.

Michael sank down next to a weathered tree stump, lounging back against it, basking in the warm sunlight. "I knew the Lanteans would investigate the distress call. I hoped your team would come, that you might persuade Colonel Sheppard to...relocate me."

"You are Wraith. Do you not wish to return to a hive?"She felt Michael'sfrustration and anger radiate along the threads connecting their thoughts. She eased down beside him and reached out with her mind, brushing against his thoughts with a gentle gesture. "Michael? Tell me."

Michael's eyes twitched once and focused on a clump of dirt at the edge of the meadow before Teyla felt him tamp down his resentment.

"You must understand, only the strongest Wraith survive. The others did not accept me the first time I rejoined the hive. The second time... lets just say I did not find it a pleasant experience. It mattered not that Dr. Beckett's experiment failed. My brethren sensed my half-human traits, my weakness. In a hive, weakness equates to death. I struggled for every meal. Thanks to Beckett, I could no longer feed upon humans. Hunger became an unquenchable fire. I learned to eat as a human in order to survive. In my desire to save myself, I bargained for protection. I targeted the strongest Wraith with the remaining retrovirus Dr. Beckett left behind on the planet, turning them human in order to feed the weaker, starving Wraith. In exchange, they protected me from the others. The queen did not appreciate my gesture and placed a bounty on my life."

Teyla studied him as his gaze shifted from the distant field to the ground in front of him. His anger at what the Lanteans had done to him, how they—and she—had treated him, flashed, palpable.

_"_I am sorry. I did not agree with the experiment the Lanteans conducted, nor did I wish to keep your identity a secret once you began to remember your past. However, I do not believe the Lanteans will be overly helpful in your given situation."

Michael's head came up; his eyes narrowed. "My inability to reintegrate myself into Wraith society is a direct result of Dr. Beckett's experiment to make me human. The Lanteans owe me. I want my life back."

"Do you realize what you are asking? If they find you here, they may assist you in escaping this world, only to hold you captive on Atlantis." Teyla cocked her head to one side. "Is that what you wish?"

"The gate is in orbit. If Dr. McKay can recover a Wraith dart, I'll be out of your way—for good." Michael tensed, tipping his head and staring with unfocused eyes. "The other Wraith are fighting Sheppard and Ronon. Should your team fail, the Wraith will kill your friends and then come for me."

Teyla's eyes sharpened as she faced him, her voice laced with steel. "My team shall win. They are fierce fighters. Colonel Sheppard does not give in to his enemy, and Ronon will stop at nothing to ensure the death of many Wraith."

Michael's mouth turned up at one corner. "I see your trust in them has not wavered since last we met." He glanced upward, glimpsing not the cobalt sky, but some other vision only he could see. "It appears your faith is well placed."

A splintering sound jerked Teyla back to the cabin. Her eyes shot open in time to see Ronon kick open the half-closed cabin door. Sheppard dived into the room, Ronon on his heels, both rolling and gaining their feet, weapons trained on the Wraith.

"Wait! It is Michael." Teyla stepped in front of Michael, arms raised, hands palm out. "He is requesting sanctuary." She met Sheppard's raised brow with a nod. Glancing over her shoulder at Michael, she tried to look reassuring.

Teyla watched the fading light shift; Michael's white hair and pale skin shifted with it, turning silver-hued. His golden eyes tracked from Ronon's murderous sneer to Sheppard's incredulous look before returning to her face.

_Will you help me?_

_I will speak with them, but I make no promises._ Teyla became aware of Sheppard calling to Michael, demanding he step back. His voice sounded odd, metallic, as though he were speaking through a weak radio connection. She tried to reply, but remained caught in Michael's eyes.

_Michael, we must answer Colonel Sheppard or he will harm you._ A brilliant flash of light illuminated Michael's nod of agreement seconds before her mind went dark.

* * *

_**A/N: Apparently the SGA writers and I had similar ideas. I have been working on this story since right after the first Michael episode, but hesitated to continue because of the direction the show took with the Michael character. I am posting the first chapter just to see if it is even worth finishing. Please give me your honest feedback.** **Thanks.** _


	2. Chapter 2

_**Spoilers: Because of some similarities, this may contain spoilers up to and including Season 4, Vengeance.**_

_**Rating: T for some mild language.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of the characters associated with it.**_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Sheppard watched as Teyla and Michael stood, transfixed. "Michael, step away from her... now. I mean it. You enticed us here for a reason, and I'm willing to listen, but you have to step back and let her go."

Michael shifted his feet to the left, exposing himself to Sheppard's crosshairs.

Sheppard flexed his finger around the P90 trigger, preparing to squeeze, and scrutinized Michael's expression. "Teyla, move!" When she did not comply, he spared a quick glance at Ronon. "What's the deal?"

Ronon sniffed the air with a disdainful glower at Michael. "Wraith control. If I kill him, we can get her out of there."

"No, don't kill him; stun him. I want some answers about this little ambush he 'invited' us to attend."

Ronon fired before Sheppard finished his statement, the crimson flash from his gun lit the room, hitting Michael in the center of his chest. The Wrath dropped; Teyla dropped with him.

* * *

Waves of tingling aftershocks racked Rodney's nerve endings as he forced his limbs to move. He groaned when he pushed upright and leaned against the wall, fighting a bout of vertigo. His head throbbed. He swayed, threw out an arm, and grabbed the wall. He'd meant to do something--oh, yeah, save the team from the Wraith--easy, no problem. He dragged open his eyes. 

Okay, maybe one little problem. He squinted and shook his head, trying to reconcile the image of Teyla standing toe-to-toe with a Wraith. He blinked twice and rubbed his eyes with his fists. The Wraith, who looked an awful lot like Michael, stood so close to Teyla that if he moved an inch, she would have grounds for a sexual harassment complaint. Teyla stared up at Michael, their eyes locked, while Michael's hands hovered on either side of her face, just shy of contact. _Why were they just standing there like that?_

McKay glanced around the dusky room, searching for his Beretta. He thought the darker shadow near Michael's boot might be Teyla's P90, but he needed to get closer to recover it. As he shoved away from the wall, the door imploded, sending wooden splinters into the room. He staggered backwards, tripped, and ended up on his ass again in a cloud of filth as Sheppard and Ronon dived into the cabin. Huh, he hadn't realized the big guy could tuck and roll like that.

His ears rang, and the minute amount of air he managed to draw felt thick, coating his throat with the bitter taste of decay. His energy flagged, he reclined against the wall, watching, helpless, as Sheppard tried to reason with the Wraith, but that didn't make sense. Reasoning with a Wraith signified a classic oxymoron. The sound of Ronon's pistol as it expelled energy reverberated in his aching head. Temporarily blinded by the flash of weapons fire, McKay attempted to rise, wanted to check on his teammates, but the brutal throbbing in his head made movement impossible. With a muffled cry, he slid back down to the floor, watching the ensuing saga with slumped shoulders.

* * *

When Teyla fell, Sheppard dived forward in an attempt to catch her, but missed by seconds. He watched her hit the floor; the impact riled a cloud of dust substantial enough to distort visibility. He slid to the floor next to her, ignored the ache in his ribs when his upper body connected with the ground, and shoved himself into a squat. He grabbed her arms, giving a little shake. "Teyla!" When she didn't so much as blink, he glared at Ronon. "Why'd you shoot her?" 

"I didn't shoot her. I shot him." Ronon kicked the Wraith stunner away from Michael's unmoving hand then crouched next to Teyla, checking her neck with two burly fingers. "Her pulse is strong." He glanced at Sheppard. "I had a clean shot."

"Damn it!" Sheppard unsnapped Teyla's tactical vest and eased it open, checking for any obvious injuries. Happy to see no signs of bleeding or trauma, he released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. A soft groan pulled his attention to the dim corner. With a quick nudge to Ronon's knee, he said, "Stay with her, and radio the jumper. Tell Lorne we need a ride home. I'm going to check on Rodney." He closed the gap to the downed scientist, favoring his left side as he moved.

"S'okay... I'm okay." McKay groaned as he tried to sit up.

Sheppard reached out, pressing against McKay's shoulders. "Hold still. You may have broken something, maybe cracked open your head. We don't need you leaking genius brain matter all over this dung-ridden hovel." When McKay moaned and relaxed against the wall, Sheppard ran quick hands over his friend's body, feeling for anything more twisted than normal. Everything checked out, until he reached the back of McKay's head. McKay's yelp startled a grunt out of him. "Easy, it's just a bump. No blood. Looks like you get to spend the night at Carson's camp for chronic head-whumpers."

McKay's snort turned into a ragged cough before he caught his breath. "And who holds the most mileage in the corner bed, hmm? Or do you have the hots for nurse what's-her-name?" His glazed eyes darted behind Sheppard. "Is that Michael? 'Cause it looked like him. He used his Wraith 'mind meld' technique on Teyla again."

"Mind meld? You may need to see Dr. Heightmeyer about this Star Trek obsession of yours, Rodney." Sheppard forced a light note into his voice as he studied his friends pale face, not liking the sweat beading McKay's skin. He squeezed his fingertips against McKay's clammy wrist and frowned at the erratic pulse beating just below the surface.

"I'm not the one...reenacting the Kirk scripts, Colonel." McKay's chest heaved, and his voice roughened. "I was trying to...help her when you and...Babe, the blue ox busted in the...door." McKay's breathing wheezed. "Damn dust...can't get...air."

"Yeah, I know. Hang in there; Major Lorne is en route in jumper four. Just breathe slowly, in and out. That's it, keep it up." Sheppard patted McKay's knee. "Be a good little scientist; don't move." Sheppard's boot heel rotated on the greasy floor as he peered over his shoulder toward where Ronon sat with Teyla's head cushioned on his thigh. "Any change?"

"Nope. Can I kill him now?" Ronon notched his head in Michael's direction.

"Nope." Headset static, followed by Lorne's tinny voice announcing jumper four's arrival above their position, pulled a sigh from Sheppard. "Our ride is here. Let's load them up and go home."

* * *

Sheppard paced. He stopped every few passes and peeked through the gap between the curtains, not sure what he hoped to see. No, that was a lie. He knew he wanted Teyla or McKay to exit the curtained area and explain to him what in the hell had just happened back there. It should have been a simple recon mission to answer a distress call, but, as usual, _should have_ had turned into _oh crap_, and the mission went belly-up. Now, Teyla remained unconscious, Rodney suffered a lumpy head, and Atlantis housed a stunned wraith-human hybrid in a reinforced holding cell. 

Michael... wasn't that a fine surprise. He'd believed Michael dead, blown to bits by McKay during his team's last encounter with the Wraith-human. When he had burst into the cabin and spotted Michael looming over Teyla, he'd come within seconds of turning his belief into reality. Only Teyla's calm interjection had saved Michael from certain death. If he didn't get answers soon, he might pay Michael a little visit and end this farce of a friendship for good—if Ronon didn't beat him to it.

He glanced toward the chairs where Ronon sat, hunched over, fists pressed against his forehead, elbows resting on his knees. Every minute or so, the Satedan spared a quick glance toward the curtains, his lips peeled back, baring sharp, white teeth, much like a wolf's--feral, fuming, unforgiving. On his next curtain check, Ronon's amber eyes met his and held for three long seconds. Sheppard read anger, resentment, and fear couched in icy-calm control before Ronon's gaze returned to the curtain, then sharpened.

Sheppard's head snapped around just as Beckett emerged from the depths of the treatment area. Ronon leapt to his feet, but Sheppard beat him to Beckett's side.

"Doc, how are they?"

"I can't find a thing wrong with Teyla. She is unconscious, but her vitals are steady, and all my scans came back normal. For now, I'm inclined to let her rest and see if she comes around on her own."

"Michael did something to her. Let me interrogate him. I'll get answers." Ronon pounded his right fist into his left palm and tossed his dreadlocks out of his face.

"I'm afraid it won't do you a bit of good, lad. Michael is unconscious as well, thanks to your super stunner."

Sheppard shot Ronon a quelling look then crossed his arms as he studied Beckett's face. "What about Rodney? He breathed a ton of dust before we got him out of there. Hell, we all did."

"Yes, and he is suffering from allergy induced asthma. That old building contained enough dust and mold to cause bronchospasm--ah, that is the tightening of the muscles surrounding his airway. I administered oral prednisone and started him on a nebulizer treatment to ease his breathing. The combined approach is working beautifully. He should be back to his verbose self in no time."

"How's his head?" Sheppard asked.

"There's something to be said for hard-headedness." Beckett chuckled as he rocked on his heels. "He has a mild concussion. If he tolerates treatment well, I may release him to quarters sometime in the next day or two."

"I want to see them." Ronon strode toward the closed curtains, pulling up short when Beckett thrust a hand against his chest. He glanced down at the doctor, his eyes narrowing at the contact.

"You may see them in the morning. None of that bluster and blather, either. Go on now. The best thing you can do for your friends is to take care of yourself. Eat a hot meal. Catch up on your sleep. I'll radio if their conditions change." Beckett made shooing motions and nudged Ronon toward the door. "Ach, be a good lad or I'll have to call Elizabeth. You don't want that now, do you?"

Ronon grunted and, with a glance at Sheppard, strode through the doorway. Sheppard grinned and turned to follow. A hand in the crook of his arm halted his escape.

"And just where do you think you're going, Colonel, without your post-mission check?" Beckett asked.

"What about Ronon's post-mission check?"

"Dr. Bresson saw to it while you were arguing with me about waiting in chairs." Beckett grinned. "Any other excuses?"

"Ah, your staff looked busy. I thought I'd come back later, you know, when you guys had more time on your hands." Sheppard tried his best aw shucks grin.

"I always have time for you. What is wrong with your ribs?" Beckett led Sheppard through the infirmary to an empty exam bed and patted the mattress. "Up you go, then."

"Ribs?" Sheppard cringed at the squeaky quality of his reply. He'd have to watch that. He sounded a little like McKay. He hopped up onto the bed, biting his lip in an effort not to groan in front of Beckett. Damn pain anyway.

"Yes, ribs. I'm not daft, you know. I saw your face when you helped unload McKay from the jumper. Oh, and hugging your left arm over them presented another clue." Beckett called over one of his nurses and murmured some instructions Sheppard couldn't interpret. She nodded and, with a shy smile in Sheppard's direction, dashed off.

"Aw, Doc, give me a break. My mind focused on my injured team--"

"Of course you didn't think to include yourself in that description, lad," Beckett said, his eyes lit with humor.

The nurse returned pushing a cart covered with a white cloth.

"Thank you, Emily." Carson smiled and patted her arm. "That will be all. I think I can handle Colonel Sheppard by myself." After the blushing nurse departed, Beckett folded back the cloth, revealing scissors, bandage wraps, tape, and the Ancient hand-held scanner. "Lie back so I can get a proper scan of your injuries." Beckett held Sheppard's elbow, placed a hand behind the injured man's back, and helped ease him to a supine position. He took the scissors and cut the black t-shirt from Sheppard's body, peeling it away from his injured side and dropping the remnants in a metal pan on the treatment cart. He shook his head at the patch of scrapes and abrasions covering Sheppard's left side.

"Hey! That is one of my new shirts, fresh off the Daedalus last month. I could have taken it off, you know." Sheppard pinned the doctor with narrowed eyes. Sometimes he suspected Beckett cut up his new shirts as payback for his less than honest post-mission, self-injury assessments.

Beckett held Sheppard's peeved look and replied, "Your shirt is smelly, filthy, and in shreds, Colonel. It is beyond repair. I'm sure Daedalus will bring a new supply when they next arrive."

Sheppard pressed his lips together and bit back a smart-ass reply. This was Beckett, not McKay. Sheppard appreciated Beckett's concern, even though it rankled to admit he felt pain. He nodded at his friend and received a grin in return.

Beckett picked up the Ancient medical scanner and activated the devise with a quick thought. It hummed. Not everyone realized that, but Sheppard and Beckett, both having the Ancient gene, heard the steady thrum of energy the device emitted. Beckett ran the scanner over Sheppard's left side and shot the Colonel an irritated look.

"You've a deep bruise to your ribs. I'm sure you're more than a little achy." He ran the scanner over the rest of Sheppard's body, deactivating it once satisfied he'd found Sheppard's only injury. He made quick work of cleansing the scrapes, ignoring Sheppard's sharp hiss when the alcohol wipe brushed over abraded flesh. "Your ribs are not broken, but, after you shower, I'll wrap them for support while they heal and give you some pain medication, which you will take, without complaint." Beckett helped Sheppard sit up.

Sheppard nodded, his face a mask of innocence.

"Go one with you then, pick up your medicine. Go clean up and eat, then get yourself back here so I can apply the wrap. You're restricted to light duty until I clear you. I expect to see you in three days for a check-up, understood?" Beckett asked.

"Aye Aye, Doc." Sheppard waggled his eyebrows at Beckett and grinned when the doctor harrumphed and shook his head.

TBC

* * *

_**A/N: I am not a medical expert, therefore, please forgive any errors in those areas. Chalk it up to poetic licence...**_


	3. Chapter 3

**_Spoilers: Because of some similarities, this may contain spoilers up to and including Season 4, Vengeance. _**

_**Rating: T for some mild language.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of the characters associated with it.**_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Soft whispers pulled Teyla from dreams. She attempted to reach toward the sound, but her body felt cumbersome, movement impossible. A steady beeping sound, increasing in tempo, drowned out the whispers until a warm hand found hers and squeezed.

"Teyla, open your eyes."

She endeavored to obey the hushed command, but her eyelids felt as weighty as her limbs. Someone moaned. The hand squeezed hers again with greater pressure.

"I know you're awake, lass. Look at me." The voice sounded familiar, insistent, and anxious.

Teyla fought the lethargy and cracked open one lid. She squinted up at the hovering face and pushed away the exhaustion, her dry lips turned up at the edges. "Carson."

Beckett's expression crinkled into an answering grin, and his blue eyes relaxed as he patted her shoulder with his free hand. "Aye, and it's glad I am that you recognize me. I've been a wee bit worried about you. How do you feel?"

"Heavy." Teyla cleared her scratchy throat and swallowed. "What happened?"

Beckett must have understood her dilemma, for he let go of her hand and reached for something on the side table. With a sheepish grin, he held out a cup with a bobbing purple straw. "Drink this, it should help."

She captured the evasive straw between her parched lips and took four long sips of cool water.

"Easy, not too much. I don't want to upset your stomach." Beckett set aside the cup and donned his professional face. "Why don't you tell me what you remember?"

Teyla swiped her mouth with the back of her right hand then relaxed, her head sinking into the cushioning pillows. Her vision softened as she watched the scene play in her mind. "My last memory is of the planet. Rodney and I entered an abandoned dwelling. Michael waited inside." She shot up in the bed and reached for the covers. "Rodney!"

Beckett griped her shoulders and held her against the pillows, shaking his head no. "There will be none of that, lass. Rodney has a wee knot on his head and his allergies caused problems, but he will be fine. You, however, must stay put." He released her, but looked ready to pounce should she decide to make a break for the door.

The painful knot in her stomach uncoiled, and she blew out a slow breath, trying to regain her equilibrium. "Michael stunned Rodney, and then...we communicated."

"Ronon said Michael took over your mind, held you hostage." Beckett's forehead furrowed as his blue eyes searched her face, his gaze intense, focused.

She smiled at his concern. "Ronon tends to see the worst in the Wraith, doubly so where Michael is concerned." She pushed a hand through her hair, lifting the shiny red strands away from her face.

"Are you telling me you see any glimmer of good in the Wraith? After all your people have suffered at their hands?"

"I saw kindness in Michael when in human form. A spark remains in his current state." She raised a hand at Beckett's sharp look. "He could have killed Rodney and me. He did not. Does that not speak to his compassion?"

"More like deviousness." Sheppard stepped from the shadows. "Michael used you—and us. I just haven't figured out why." He shared a look with Beckett. The doctor gave a slight nod and headed for his office. Sheppard pulled up a chair and sat, his enigmatic hazel eyes meeting hers. "So, what did you two 'communicate' about?"

"He asked for our help to escape from the other Wraith. Apparently, they did not accept his return to the hive. The other Wraith found his half-human status inferior. They planned to kill him."

"He told you this how, exactly? When Ronon and I got there, the two of you appeared linked. Did he hijack your mind?" Sheppard's sharp eyes punctuated his otherwise bland face.

Teyla held his gaze for a moment then looked away, her fingers curling and uncurling around a clump of blankets. She studied the white on white vine pattern on the privacy curtain, unnoticed until this moment.

"Teyla," Sheppard's light tone belied the tension around his mouth. "You can tell me anything. I won't judge you."

"He did not. He asked permission and I let him into my thoughts. It was unlike my previous experience in sharing a psychic connection with the hive."

"You connected to a hive?" Sheppard sat forward, the sudden movement drawing a protesting squeak from the metal chair.

"No, John, you misunderstand." Teyla placed a hand on his forearm. "Michael and I linked, alone in our thoughts. He took me to a favorite place from my childhood, a mental safe-haven. We conversed until you and Ronon arrived then everything went dark. The next thing I remember is waking up here."

Sheppard's lips thinned. "Safe-haven my ass. Let me deal with Michael. You can't trust him, no matter what crap he tells you."

Teyla tilted her head and frowned. "John, where is Michael?"

Sheppard grimaced and stood, shoving the chair out of the way. "He is in the cell in the lower level. I plan to question him as soon as he comes around."

"He is unconscious?" Teyla asked.

"Not any longer." Beckett strode up to the bed, medical chart in hand. "I just received word from the medical team watching over Michael. He awakened shortly after Teyla."

"I wish to see him." Teyla reached for the blankets.

Sheppard forestalled her with a hand. "Ah, that's not a good idea, not until we know it's safe."

"Michael will do me no harm."

"Still, humor me. Let Ronon and I talk to him first," Sheppard said.

"That may be sooner than you think." Beckett faced Sheppard. "Michael is asking for you, Colonel."

"Really. I wonder why."

"You can ask him when you see him," Weir said as she rounded the privacy curtain. "Just be on guard. He has yet to earn my trust." She gave Sheppard a level look then turned and smiled at Teyla. "Feeling better?"

"Other than being a little tired, I feel fine." Teyla fought the exhaustion pulling at her and directed her next question at Beckett. "May I return to my quarters? I am sure I will rest much better in my own bed."

Beckett set the medical chart on the side cart and picked up her arm, pressing on her wrist pulse point with one eye on his watch. "Not tonight, lass. As I explained to Rodney, you get at least one night with me, and if you are well enough, I may release you tomorrow." He set down her arm, pulling up the blankets and settling them over her shoulders. He rested a palm on her cheek. "Sleep. Tomorrow will arrive sooner that way."

Teyla nodded, giving in to her exhausted body, and let her eyes slide shut. She listened to the hushed conversation; her lips curved up at the attempt to shield her from the conversation.

"Hey, no eavesdropping." Sheppard delivered his whispered admonishment with a chuckle. His hand smoothed her hair out of the way just before his forehead rested against hers. "In the morning, I'll bring breakfast and then spring you from this joint. I know all the secret exits."

She gave a faint nod, clinging to consciousness long enough to whisper, "Protect Michael. He is alone now." Sheppard's fingers squeezing her hand stayed with her, the last thing she felt before she slipped into dreams.

* * *

Sheppard held Teyla's hand and watched her drift off. Once her breathing settled into an easy rhythm, he tucked her hand under the covers and joined Beckett and Weir in Beckett's office. 

"Here, you look like you could use this." Beckett handed him a cup of steaming coffee.

Sheppard murmured his thanks as he took the hot mug and wrapped his lean fingers around it, the warmth seeping into his bloodstream. He took a sip and coughed brown liquid onto his black t-shirt. He shot Beckett a look. "Brandy? For medicinal purposes, I assume."

"You'd rather have unleaded, then?" Beckett's face framed the picture of innocence.

Sheppard glanced at Weir only to receive a raised left eyebrow and a shrug before she took a big sip of coffee. She made an exaggerated swallowing sound and hummed her appreciation, grinning at him like a teenager at a keg party.

With a slow grin, Sheppard raised his cup. "No, Doc, leaded is fine, as long as the boss is in agreement. Cheers." He slurped a big gulp. The liquid burned a trail of fire all the way to his gut. He pursed his lips, set the concoction on the corner of Beckett's desk, and then sank into the chair next to Weir. "So, what's up with Michael?"

Beckett cleared his throat and set his own mug aside. He steepled his fingers, his serious gaze tracked to Sheppard. "Best I can tell, your team stunned and captured Michael. It took a while for the stunner blast to wear off. He is perfectly lucid and no small amount of angry about being a prisoner. He is demanding his freedom. My staff told him only you and Elizabeth could grant his release. He has been calling for both of you ever since."

"Well we're for damn sure not letting him go." Sheppard glanced at Weir and frowned when he read the neutrality in her face. "Right, Elizabeth?"

"No, John, we're not letting him go yet."

"Yet? You're funny." Sheppard leaned closer to Weir. "You do realize Michael will trade the proof of our continued existence to whichever enemy makes him the better offer?"

"Then we'll have to make him the best offer, one he can't refuse." Weir took a sip of coffee and gave him a slight nod, her eyes never leaving his. "I think you should listen to what he has to say. He hasn't betrayed us yet, and he's had ample opportunity. Besides, if we can make him believe we will help, he might calm down, become more rational."

"You can't think it will be that easy, just pull up a chair and discuss his future over beer and peanuts. What about Ronon?"

"I realize your team will treat Michael as a prisoner. Ronon can be as intimidating as he likes, as long as he inflicts no physical harm. Ronon's presence might inspire Michael to be a little more forthcoming."

"You just finished telling me to be careful, that you don't trust Michael. Now you want me to make nice?"

"I don't trust him; Teyla trusts him, which is why I want your team to break him down and build him up again, make him believe in us. He needs our help or he wouldn't have improvised a way to get your team to that planet."

"Teyla trusts him because he got to her. He's been inside her head. He needed us for one purpose--to escape from the other Wraith. We fell right into that plan. Now he wants to disappear, which we can't allow for obvious security reasons."

"Well then, Colonel, it is up to you to convince him that he needs us for the infinite future," Weir's expression hardened. "By whatever means necessary."

"We could always use the retrovirus again." Beckett glanced from Sheppard to Weir, his eyes serious.

"Carson, the two previous attempts to turn Michael human failed. How would a third time be any different?" Weir asked.

"No, our last two attempts left Michael half human, half Wraith. Given enough injections, his human condition has a minute chance of becoming permanent. Not wanting to rely on such a small probability for success, and knowing our paths might cross again, I devised a Michael-specific strain of retrovirus—

"Why would you do that?" Sheppard knew the answer. Guilt drove men to many things, and Carson was not immune, a hazard of his profession.

"I caused him to suffer twice before, but not this time. The effects of Retrovirus-M are permanent. Michael is a nice enough fellow once he sheds his Wraith DNA. I'd like to turn him human permanently—with his consent this time, of course. I owe him that much."

"Listen, I know you feel guilty for the last retrovirus experiment, but he won't consent. He likes being Wraith. I thought them our worst enemy, but after my experience with Kolya and his pet Wraith…let's just say, the lines have blurred. If I knew Michael wouldn't betray us, I'd let him go."

"Use that. Use your experience with Kolya's Wraith as a way to connect with Michael. You have a unique perspective." Weir's gaze dropped to her lap where her fingers tugged her jacket zipper up and down. "I realize we can't possibly understand what you went through when Kolya's Wraith took and then restored your life, but Michael can." Her head came up. "Maybe two wrongs can equal one right."

Sheppard caught the reflection of remorse in her eyes. He reached over and patted her hand in an awkward gesture. "Hey, stop torturing yourself. I told you that you made the right decision by not trading my life for his. We're still allies with Ladon Radim and the Genii, and we learned the Wraith could give back life. It all worked out well."

Weir covered his hand with hers and wrinkled her nose. "Maybe for you. The Wraith restored your youth. Look at you. Not one gray hair. I, on the other hand, have plenty after witnessing you age before my eyes." She pointed at her hair.

Sheppard gave her statement serious consideration, tipping his head and admiring her chestnut locks, the silken strands reflected in the glow from Carson's desk lamp. He reached out and tugged on a stray curl then tucked it behind her right ear. "I don't know, Lizabeth, I think you have beautiful hair," he said, his voice pitched low.

Beckett's chair groaned as he pushed up from its depths and headed for the doorway. Sheppard dropped his hand when Weir started to rise. Beckett waved her back into the seat.

"No, sit. Stay as long as you want. I have rounds anyway. Drink more coffee with medicinal additives then get some rest. You both need it, and it might lend clarity to the Michael situation." Beckett disappeared through the doorway, leaving his two friends staring at each other in the dim light.

_**TBC**__**

* * *

**__**A/N: Okay, I find it interesting when a plot grabs the wheel and turns down a side road you hadn't planned to take on the way to "the end". I guess I'll sit back and enjoy the scenic vistas flashing past the window. If I see some I like, I'll snatch them and toss them into the mix. :-)**_ If they sour the stew, I may pull out some tidbits, but until then, I hope you will forgive me if I let the whole pot simmer for a bit. 


	4. Chapter 4

**_Spoilers: Because of some similarities, this may contain spoilers up to and including Season 4, Vengeance. _**

_**Rating: T for some mild language.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of the characters associated with it.**_

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Teyla checked the hall for passers-by then slipped out of her quarters. It wouldn't do for someone to spot her contradicting Beckett's instructions—a condition of release, really—to rest in quarters. She hurried to the nearest transporter and punched the symbol for the lower levels. When the door opened, she stepped out with a casual glance at the two Marines standing guard.

"Gentlemen, I'm here to see Michael." She started past them.

The nearest Marine stepped between her and the door. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. Colonel Sheppard left strict orders not to let anyone in with the prisoner."

"Yes, but who is my team leader?

"Colonel Sheppard, Ma'am."

"Correct. Who do you suppose sent me to check on...the prisoner?" Teyla crossed her arms and matched the Marine's stance.

"Colonel Sheppard?" The Marine asked as he reached for his radio. "Give me one minute to confirm-" The Marine let go of the radio. "As you wish." His unblinking eyes held hers until he resumed his position to the left of the door.

Teyla glanced at the second Marine, but the man ignored her presence. She nodded at the first Marine. "Thank you." She waved open the door and walked inside.

The door slid closed behind her with a solid snick. Michael stood in the center of the cell, hands fisted by his sides. Someone had provided him with fresh sweat pants and a black tee shirt. His biceps flexed, pulling the short sleeves taunt as his fists pumped open and closed.

"Teyla."

"Michael."

"Am I to assume you discussed my request for assistance with Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir?" Michael stepped closer to the bars, his eyes on hers.

"I did. They are concerned for the safety of their people if they were to set you free." Teyla moved up a step. "They do not believe you will keep Atlantis a secret."

"You told them I would. They did not believe you." At her nod, he continued, "Yet they allow you to visit without escort?" Michael tilted his head to the side. "They do not know you are here."

"No."

"How did you get past the guards?"

Teyla shrugged. "Wraith gifts."

Michael's lips twitched and his fists relaxed. "They fear me when they should fear you. I resent being imprisoned." He trailed his fingers along the force field surrounding the cell, sending energy waves rippling outward, dissipating into invisible wrinkles in time. His face fell when she did not respond. "Why did you come?"

"I felt I should be the one to explain your options." Teyla averted her eyes. She felt certain he would not accept her offer.

"Teyla, look at me. Please."

She raised her head and sighed. "Take the retrovirus." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to protest. "It is not what you think. Carson designed a new retrovirus specifically for you. He calls it Retrovirus-M. This strain will make you human, but you will retain your memories. The choice is yours. Take the retrovirus and remain here until Colonel Sheppard feels you are no longer a threat to Atlantis, or you may live out the remainder of your life as a caged hybrid, accepted by no one."

Michael surprised her. He did not rage. He did not turn away. He blinked once then locked eyes with her.

She felt his breezy mental caress, muted by the force field, but potent in its simplicity. She opened her mind and allowed the contact.

"_Teyla... I cannot live in a cage."_

_She raised a brow. "The force field..."_

"_Is ineffective between our two minds."_

"_Are you able to reach out to the others?"_

"_Only you." _

"_Michael, take the retrovirus. Remain on Atlantis."_

"_There is another choice. You have only to-"_

"_I cannot set you free."_

"_Then you condemn me to death. Will you visit, Teyla, or will you abandon me to merciless insanity?"_

"_I am your friend. You need friends, Michael. Once they feel certain of your loyalty, the Atlanteans will not abandon you. I will not abandon you."_

"_No, instead you wish me to abandon myself because you cannot accept my true identity. By rejecting me, you reject yourself. We are alike, Teyla, whether or not you acknowledge the truth." _Michael turned and strode to the rear of the cell and stood with arms crossed, his face averted.

Teyla felt him slip away, the chilly sensation of his thoughts faded into nothing. _"Michael..."_ She reached for him, but found no answering receptors.

"Leave me." Michael's flat voice pierced the silence.

Teyla studied him for a moment. He may have blocked his mind, but she felt his frustration thick in the air. "I shall do as you ask, but I will return. Please consider our offer. It is the only viable way to resolve your dilemma."

His back flexed at her words. His snort of laughter held no humor. "There is another option, one I'm sure Ronon would be happy to exact." He turned his head enough that she captured his expression of resolve tinged with regret. "He may grant me absolution."

"No. I will not allow it." She moved around the cage with measured steps. "Michael, you must be rational. Life on Atlantis is not without its trials, but the people care for one another. In time you will find your place among the expedition members."

"Would you have me join your team? Hunt and kill Wraith? You cannot expect me to turn against my own kind." His eyes flashed. "Could you do the same, Teyla?"

"Have you not already turned against the Wraith? Their rejection left you no choice." She headed for the door, pausing with her hand over the sensor. "Our offer is the only way to ensure your survival. Think about it."

"I could say the same to you. Set me free, Teyla. Do it for us." Michael drifted to the front of the cell, golden eyes luminous against his skin.

"Us? We are but friends."

"_We are more than friends. Our bond is unique."_

She gasped. She hadn't felt the frigid sensation of possession as their minds joined. _"I did not agree to connect this way."_

"_Subconsciously, your mind recognizes that I am no threat even as your conscious self hides from me."_

"_In the future, please seek my permission before communicating in this manner. If the others knew, it would endanger any chance for successful resolution of your situation."_

"_You would not divulge our secret; exposing me as a security risk exposes you as well. Your life in Atlantis would cease."_

"_When Colonel Sheppard comes to discuss your future, I pray to the Ancestors that you are wise in your choice." _She spun on her heel and swiped her hand over the door control. When the door whooshed open, she dashed past the oblivious guards and entered the nearest transporter, feeling Michael's echo fade as she transported away from the cell.

* * *

Sheppard took the stairs two at a time and entered the control room, shaking the damp from his freshly showered hair. "What happened, Radek?" 

Radek Zelenka studied the monitor and rubbed a hand over his chin. "It is all quite strange, Colonel. I don't know the cause, but we've had two power spikes in the force field around Michael's cell. Diagnostics are negative. Perhaps Rodney could help-"

"Not an option. Carson released him with strict instructions not to strain himself with work. Besides, we wouldn't want him to realize how needed he is around here, would we. Did you radio the guards?"

"Yes. Neither responded." Zelenka frowned at the monitor. "There it goes again, another spike in the force field."

"I'm overdue for a visit with Michael. I'll head down there, check it out. You keep an eye on those power levels." Sheppard loped down the stairs and tapped his radio as he hit the hallway running. "Ronon, this is Sheppard. You got a minute, buddy?"

"Need me to kill your pet Wraith?" Ronon asked through the com-link.

Sheppard jumped into the transporter and slapped a hand against the panel. "No, but something's rotten in Michael-Ville. Meet me at the holding cell; and set your weapon to stun."

"On my way."

* * *

McKay slipped up behind Zelenka and peered over his shoulder. "What did you do, Radek?" 

Zelenka jerked away from the keyboard and clamored out of his chair. "Rodney. What are you doing out of bed?"

"What, I can't stop in and check on things on my way back from the mess hall?" McKay asked as he bent over the laptop, reading the calculations and statistics as they flashed on the screen. "I repeat, what did you do?"

Zelenka shoved his glasses closer to his eyes and stepped forward, his hands gesticulating as he spoke. "It is nothing I can't handle. You should return to bed."

"I will, as soon as I fix whatever it is you broke. What did you do to cause the spikes in Michael's force field?" McKay hooked the chair with his left food and tugged it closer, sinking into it without looking. He tapped the keys in a rapid tempo, squinting at the screen.

"Nothing. I did nothing wrong." Zelenka hovered behind the chair and shot glances at the doorway. "The force field spiked on its own. The guards did not respond to our request for a status report, so Colonel Sheppard went to investigate. I remained behind to monitor the power levels and await further instructions from the Colonel."

"Did you run a system scan?" McKay scowled at the data displayed before him. "Ah, yes, I see that you did. Well, that is encouraging. Now, let the expert run a full diagnostic. A little mystery ripe for solving; just what the doctor ordered to cure a bored astrophysicist."

"I believe the doctor ordered bed rest, but it is your ass Carson will chew if he catches you working, not mine." Zelenka crossed his arms and peered at McKay over the top of his glasses.

McKay turned, caught the worry lines on Zelenka's brow, and swallowed the ever-present insult. "I'm fine, Radek. Let me do this. Genius and insanity are neighbors, ergo a short leap from one to the other, and malingering in bed pushes me closer to the edge."

Zelenka nodded but looked unhappy. McKay refocused on the computer. His world narrowed; sound faded as the numbers danced. The mathematical calculations soothed his ills, nectar to his starving intellect. For the first time since awakening in the infirmary, he felt at peace. His chest rattled when he breathed, caused by his allergies and a touch of Athosian flu and his body trembled in feverish reaction, but he pushed his symptoms to the background, instead focusing on the dilemma at hand. Beckett's medicine may have staved off death, but science proved his salvation. The computer beeped, ending his reverie. He read the diagnostic output.

"Huh."

"You have solved the mystery, yes?" Zelenka rubbed his chin and leaned forward.

"No."

"No?"

"No." McKay tapped a few more keys then sighed and pushed away from the desk, swaying as he stood. Steadying hands gripped his arms, and he blinked at Zelenka. "The diagnostic was normal."

"Perhaps now you will rest?" Zelenka asked.

"Ah, that I will." McKay grimaced as Zelenka released him. "I forwarded the diagnostic report to my laptop. I'll review the data from my quarters." He held up a hand when Zelenka's mouth opened. "No arguments. Work relaxes me." When Zelenka didn't look convinced, McKay continued, "It's your choice. I work in quarters, or remain here...with you." McKay felt a tickle in the back of his throat and turned his head, coughing into his right elbow. He cleared his throat to dislodge the phlegm.

"Quarters it is. Take this with you." Zelenka gathered a stack of papers from the desk and stuffed them into McKay's hands then nudged him toward the door. "Routine scans from throughout the morning. Maybe they'll help. Now go, before Carson catches you out of bed. Besides, you're probably contagious; I don't want to contract your illness. Get out of here."

* * *

Sheppard exited the transporter and came face to face with the two guards. The closest Marine stumbled back two steps and raised glassy eyes and his P90, aiming both at Sheppard's chest. Sheppard lunged for the P90, slamming his arm against the other man's throat and pinning him against the wall. 

"Billings, what the hell are you doing?" He trained his sidearm on the second Marine. "Freeze, Jenkins."

"Colonel?" Billings shook his head and blinked three times in rapid succession. "What happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me." He released Billings and stepped back, clapping the Marine on the shoulder. He glanced at Jenkins, flipped on the safety, and seated his weapon in his thigh holster. "Dr. Zelenka recorded several spikes in the force field around the holding cell. He called on the radio, but neither of you responded. Why?"

Billings rubbed at his throat, sharing a confused look with Jenkins. "I never heard Doc Z call. Are communications down?" He reached for his radio, squeezed the button twice, breaking squelch. "So much for that theory."

Sheppard waved a hand at the closed door to the holding room. "Anything unusual happen in there? Any visitors?"

"No, Sir," Billings replied. "It's been quiet."

Jenkins turned, startled, when the transporter slid open and Ronon emerged, Satedan pistol gripped in his right hand.

"Everything okay?" Ronon asked.

"Okay is a relative term." Sheppard pointed at Ronon's weapon. "Stun, right?"

"Yeah." Ronon's lip curled in a cruel grimace. "For now."

"Good. Let's go speak to our boy." Sheppard turned and thought open the door, raising an eyebrow at Ronon's snort.

"He's your boy, not mine." Ronon disappeared into the holding room.

"Lucky for you, I'm a nice guy. We'll share." Sheppard grinned as he followed Dex through the doorway.

_**TBC**_

_**

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. RL has left me little time of late to write. I have this story mapped out, with some parts written and other parts pending. Hopefully, RL will settle down so I can write away my spare hours. grins **_


	5. Chapter 5

**_Spoilers: Because of some similarities, this may contain unintentional spoilers up to and including Season 4, Vengeance. _**

_**Rating: T for some mild language.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of the characters associated with it.**_

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Sheppard felt Dex on his heels as he entered the holding room with his gun drawn.

"Sheppard. I'm surprised you decided to venture into my dungeon." Michael sat up in the cot and swung his legs over the side, facing them.

"Funny, you don't look surprised." Sheppard secured his weapon as he approached the cell then poked his finger into the force field. "Ow!" He jerked back and shook his hand, scowling at the invisible barrier.

"Still working?" Ronon asked.

"Oh yeah, working just fine." Sheppard walked around the cell, tapping his finger against several points along the way.

Michael turned his head, the motion mirroring Sheppard's progress. "Looking for something?"

Sheppard aimed for bland. "Routine security check. He touched the force field one last time. "Damn, that hurts. This would be easier for Rodney." He rubbed his throbbing finger against his thigh, hoping to relive the aftershocks. Last time he'd touched a force field more than once, his body had tingled like a bruised funny bone.

"Security. Right." Michael closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "At least give me the courtesy of being honest, Colonel."

Sheppard stopped walking and faced his captive. "You look pale—well, paler than normal. You feeling okay?" He crossed his arms and leaned closer, peering at Michael. "I can call Doc Beckett if you need medical assistance."

"Thanks for your concern, but I do not want that man near me." Michael turned his head toward Ronon. "No offence, my friend, but I'd appreciate it if you would holster your weapon."

"Yeah, I bet you would." Ronon raised his gun a notch; his sneer notched up with it. "And I'm not your friend."

"Enough." Sheppard stepped between the Satedan and the Wraith. "Let's keep this civil." He pushed the tip of Ronon's weapon toward the floor. "I appreciate the sentiment, buddy, but not yet." He crossed to the front of the cell. "You want honesty? I respect that. I'll be honest if you will. Deal?"

Michael rose and faced Sheppard. "I have been honest, yet you insist on holding me in this...cage. I have no reason to lie."

"Sure you do. You want freedom. We're in a position to grant it. I think you would say anything to sway us into helping you. I know I would if I were in that cell." Sheppard focused on Michael's eyes. During his time as a prisoner of war, he'd learned eyes speak truth.

"My desire for freedom is no secret. I have spoken of little else since my arrival. What more can I say or do to convince you that my cooperation is genuine?"

"Oh, that's an easy one; let Beckett administer his latest retrovirus. He made it especially for you. I'd hate to see all his hard work go to waste." If he hadn't been watching for it, he would have missed the minute tic at the corner of Michael's left eye. "What, you got a problem with that?" Sheppard asked.

"Far more than one, but I am intrigued enough to listen while you explain the advantages offered by such an arrangement. I'll withhold my comments until then." Michael returned to his cot and sat down. "Though I plan to reject your offer on spec, it might be amusing to observe your attempt at persuasion."

"If you don't like his plan, you can always implement mine in its place." Ronon patted his weapon and bared his teeth with feral intent.

"Plan B. I'll keep that in mind." Michael focused on Sheppard and gestured to himself. "Doctor Beckett's last two experiments left me in this state and caused my current dilemma with my own kind. Why should I trust that a third endeavor would produce a different outcome?"

Sheppard narrowed his gaze and curled his fingers into fists. "I'll forgive you for insulting my friend because you don't know him as well as I do. Carson labored, sacrificed time he could have spent on the mainland relaxing among the Athosians, for the sole purpose of perfecting the retrovirus in hopes he might do precisely as you ask—correct the original defects with your memory in tact and provide some semblance of normal existence. If you are ungrateful enough to choose death over life, well you're neither the Wraith nor the man I thought you to be." Sheppard didn't know which he felt more, disgust or anger, but his face ached with the effort to control both emotions. "I'm done talking." He turned toward Ronon. "Plan 'B' looms. Ours, not his."

"I like his plan 'B'." Ronon leered at Michael.

"Yeah, I knew you would."

Michael reclined on the cot, hands folded beneath his head. "May I have time to ponder your kind and generous offer, Colonel?"

"Sure, ponder away. What do I care? When you get sick of this cell, let me know and I'll come back to hear your decision." Sheppard turned and headed for the exit, hooking a fist full of Ronon's tunic and tugging the larger man through the doorway. "C'mon, let's get lunch."

"Fine, but I have to eat a light meal."

"Oh? I didn't think you drank that much of Zelenka's moonshine last night." Sheppard waggled his eyebrows at his friend. "Or are you losing your touch?"

Ronon held up his fingers. "There is nothing wrong with my touch. I don't want to spar with Teyla this afternoon with a full stomach."

Sheppard shot Ronon a sharp look as they stepped into the transporter. "Did Beckett clear her to work out?"

"She said he gave permission for mild exercise in the afternoon if she rested in her quarters this morning. Don't worry, I'll make sure she doesn't overdo it. You know I'd never hurt her."

"I know, but who's gonna tell her not to hurt you?" Sheppard grinned as he selected the cafeteria as their destination.

* * *

Teyla dodged Ronon's uppercut and bounced away on her heels. She threw a grin over her shoulder as she danced past the Satedan. 

"You are slow today. Late night with the Colonel?"

Ronon froze. Amber eyes snapped to her face. "With you and McKay on medical restriction, we had some down time. Sheppard wanted to do some... I believe he called it 'male bonding'."

Teyla watched his eyes, anticipating his move as he lunged for her knees. She leapt over him, planted her feet against his backside, and shoved before she landed just out of reach. She stood over his still form sprawled face down on the practice mat and nudged his ribs with her bare foot.

"Perhaps we should stop. I would not want to injure your pride any further."

"My pride," Ronon growled as he rolled over, "is fine. What makes you think otherwise?"

"I saw Colonel Sheppard this morning. He did not appear as... green as you do. Apparently this 'male bonding' did not affect him as it did you."

"Humph," Ronon muttered as he pushed his large frame up from the floor and stood looming over the petite Athosian. "After Sheppard went to bed, I spent the night watching over Michael. I don't like having him in the city."

Teyla stared up at Ronon, a frown marring her brow. "Michael simply wants his freedom." She crossed to the window seat and grabbed a towel, mopping sweat from her face and neck. "I realize we can never let him go in his current state, but I do understand his desire for freedom. I spoke with him this morning and tried to convince him to take the Retrovirus-M." She dropped down onto the window seat and rested the towel in her lap.

Ronon's head shot up and he pinned her with a glare. "You visited him? Sheppard and I went down there to investigate a spike in the force field around the holding cell. The guards reported no visitors."

Teyla shrugged. "It matters not. Michael appeared uninterested."

Ronon snorted. He propped one leg on the seat and rested his arms on his bent knee. "Did you really think he would accept?"

"No, I did not, but I thought it worth discussing with him before Colonel Sheppard forced the issue." Teyla draped the towel over her right shoulder and began packing workout gear into her bag.

"Stay away from him, Teyla."

Ronon's voice pulled her gaze to his face, and she asked, "From whom? Colonel Sheppard?"

"From Michael," Ronon growled. "He's dangerous."

Teyla stood and threw the bag over her left shoulder. "I can handle Michael." She turned and took a step toward the exit.

Ronon clamped a hand on her upper arm and spun her to face him. "Do not let emotion lead you where caution warns you not to go."

Teyla pulled her arm from Ronon's grasp, and her lips tightened. "I do not react upon emotion."

"Not usually, but where Michael is concerned... you are susceptible." Ronon crossed his arms; his jaw tightened. "You like him."

"He is Wraith," she breathed out in exasperation and dropped her bag and towel to the floor. "While I may empathize with his situation, I do not 'like' him in that way. Surely you realize I speak the truth."

"He is part human. You are part Wraith." Her mouth fell open but she remained silent when he continued. "Because you carry both Wraith and Athosian blood, you identify with Michael in a way none of us can. I understand that. I think you can use it to your advantage. Just don't be fooled by his charm and forget that underneath you're dealing with a Wraith."

Teyla swallowed the bitter taste lodged in her throat and leveled her eyes on Ronon. "Do you see me as Wraith? Do you not entrust your life in my hands each time we step through the gate? I call you friend, yet you stand before me and accuse me of allowing another to control my mind. We are finished for today." She retrieved her gear and stopped in front of Ronon's larger form. "Step aside."

Ronon's head fell and peered at her from under his dreadlocks. "I'm sorry. I do trust you with my life. You are not Wraith. I don't think you realize you have a soft spot for Michael. I see it when you look at him. You think you can change him into a man. You can't. Trying will get you killed."

"I see his potential, Ronon. When others doubted you, did I not extend the same hand of friendship? I cannot help how I view people."

"He is not a person. He is a confused Wraith. When he is near, I fear for your safety. He fixates on you. Just be careful..."

Teyla's vision blurred, and Ronon's voice trailed away. She swayed. Ice frosted her mind and words buzzed inside her head, calling her name, tugging at her consciousness with the tenacity of a gnat.

The room spun. Ronon's concerned face faded, shrinking in a pinpoint of light that grew more distant until it winked out. Velvet darkness surrounded her, the silence complete.

* * *

"Teyla... are you okay?" When Teyla murmured to herself and went limp, Ronon hissed. He cupped her head with one large hand and eased her down to the padded practice mat. He retrieved his radio and returned to her side. He cradled her against his chest with one arm, and activated his radio with the other. "Doc Beckett, I have a situation in the gym." 

Beckett's voice filtered through the comm. "Ronon, what happened?"

"Teyla collapsed. I'm brining her to the infirmary."

"Aye, that's a situation, then. I'll have a bed ready."

Ronon tapped off the radio and gathered Teyla's limp body in his arms. He shoved up from the floor, jogged out of the gym and down the crowded hall, dodging soldiers and scientists, shouting at them to move. He barreled through the infirmary doors.

"Carson, help her!"

**_

* * *

TBC_**


	6. Chapter 6

**_Spoilers: Because of some similarities, this may contain unintentional spoilers up to and including Season 4, Vengeance. _**

_**Rating: T for some mild language.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of the characters associated with it.**_

**

* * *

**

Chapter Six

Teyla closed her eyes against the vertigo and jerked awake when she sensed the ground rushing up to meet her. Heavy arms surrounded her waist, and she found herself tucked against a naked, masculine body. Teyla brought up her hands and shoved against his chest, a scream trapped in her throat.

"Shhh... Teyla, relax. You've had a bad dream. Look at me, Sweetheart."

Gentle fingers curved under her chin and tugged upward. She raised her eyes and met his sober gaze.

"Michael?" She pulled back enough to see his face. Gone was the morbid blue tint, replaced by stubble-coated, tanned skin. "What have you done? Where is Ronon?" She pushed harder against his chest and kicked him under the plush blankets. How had she ended up here?

Michael uncurled one arm from around her waist, grasped her wrists, and trapped her legs around with his own limbs.

"Let me go."

"Teyla, be reasonable."

"Reasonable? You have taken me from Atlantis. How?" She rotated her arms in a circular motion, and his fingers lost their hold. She gave three fast jabs, catching him once on the cheek and twice on the chin.

Michael pressed his lips in a thin line, his voice low, as his eyes locked with hers. "Stop it. This isn't helping."

She made a grab for the lamp on the side table, but Michael shook his head.

"Don't... you love that lamp. Remember the old lady who made it especially for us?" He snagged her upper arms and squeezed, exerting enough pressure to get her attention, stopping shy of pain.

"You dreamt of Atlantis. Ronon, I presume?" Michael's expression clouded as his cool eyes tracked her face. With a long sigh, he brushed a light kiss across her parted lips and settled back against the pillows, dragging her with him. He tucked the fuzzy blankets around her trembling shoulders. Once settled, he turned his head toward hers with a morose smile. "You still miss them, after all this time."

Teyla frowned. "Time, Michael? A moment ago, I was in the gym wrestling with Ronon and talking about his--"

"Hangover, yes I know the dream well. You've had it often enough over the past year." Michael tipped his head to one side and frowned. "I thought the dreams would fade. Do you remember how you came to be here with me?"

Teyla's confusion must have registered on her face, because pain bloomed across Michael's features, and his arms slipped from around her.

She slid away, hugging the blanket to her chest when she realized she wore nothing beneath the bedding. "No, I am sorry. I do not remember. Where are my clothes? I want to go home—to Atlantis."

Michael sat up and turned away. The light seeping through the purple and blue stained glass doors outlined his clenched jaw. "You are home." He climbed from the bed and padded across the room. The taunt muscles in his bare back, buttocks, and thighs rippled in the early morning shadows.

A flash of awareness washed over her and heat flooded her face.

He turned and shot her a knowing smile. "At least you still have feelings for me." At her negative headshake, he continued, "Even if you deny them. I feel everything you feel, Teyla. We are bonded. Lying is impossible." He opened the doors; warm light bathed the room. He turned and held out a hand. "Come here... please."

Teyla clutched the blanket tighter and slid from the bed. She placed one foot in front of the other, taking one slow step at a time. Her eyes scanned the room—for what she did not know.

When she reached Michael's side, he took the blanket and draped it over her shoulders, letting it fall in folds around her chilled body. He wrapped an arm around her waist and took her hand in his as he tugged her through the doorway.

Sea salt and sunlight; the air smelled heavy with both as she stepped onto a balcony overlooking turquoise waves capped with frothy white bubbles. The cry of aquatic birds echoed off the steel and glass city spread out around them.

Dizzy, Teyla stumbled toward the railing, peering at the swirling water below. "How is this possible?" Had reality suspended itself? She glanced at the city vista, noting the dings and damage inflicted since her arrival. No trick, this; Atlantis, battle-scarred and repaired with love and dedication by Rodney and the expedition members, filled her vision. She sent a quick prayer to the Ancients for clarity of thought and they answered with another waive of dizziness. She sank downward, losing her grip on the railing.

Arms caught her before she hit the rough ground. Her world tipped as Michael carried her back to the bed. She raked her nails over his smooth chest, scoring his flesh until his blood seeped over her fingers. "Put me down... now!"

He held firm. "Hush now, be still. You're going to be fine." He settled her on the mattress, which sagged when he joined her.

His whispered words penetrated her fugue; she wilted.

"Teyla, I realize you don't remember, but hear me out." He pulled her close and stroked her hair, working out tangles with his fingers. "Atlantis fell over a year ago while trying to fight the Wraith. You, Dr. McKay, Dr. Beckett and a few other military and scientists were the only survivors. Rodney and Carson managed to mass-produce the retrovirus and turned the attacking Wraith into humans long enough to relocate them, but not fast enough for most of the expedition. Weir, Sheppard... Ronon, they all died. I'm sorry."

"No! You lie." Teyla recoiled. With a flick of her wrists, she tried to extract herself, but he clamped down on her forearms.

"Shhh, no, Teyla, stop struggling and listen." When she stilled, he captured her face and forced her to meet his eyes. "I told you, we're bonded. I can't lie to you. Look inside my mind. You'll see the truth." _truth_ _truth_

His eyes held hers as the room dropped away. He showed her the fall of Atlantis. Dr. Weir's death at the hands of the Wraith had enraged Colonel Sheppard, and he fought and killed the Wraith who had taken Weir's life. Sheppard gasped his last breath as the Wraith Queen drained his life force; Teyla watched his essence glow as he ascended.

The elusive quality that made Ronon an ideal runner prevented his death by feeding. No, the Wraith stabbed him and dumped his body over the balcony into the frigid water, his blood turning the sea burgundy for one moment in eternity before the great depths swallowed his remains.

Michael, who had been on Atlantis under Dr. Beckett's care while he underwent Retrovirus-M treatments, helped with clean-up efforts. He had been assisting the injured when he'd stumbled across Teyla, wounded and near death. He had rushed her to the infirmary where Beckett had worked to save her life. She'd needed blood, and Michael, compatible due to their similar human/wraith status, had donated his. Beckett had nursed her back to physical health while Michael had tackled her sanity.

Michael had filled a void left by the passing of Sheppard, Ronon, and Elizabeth. His close proximity during her recovery provided the nudge both needed. They had held the bonding ceremony in the Atlantis gatrium. Michael had sealed the amalgamation with a kiss, the blue event horizon a shimmering backdrop to their joining.

"No." Teyla jerked away from his gaze, severing the connection just as the door chimed.

"Come in," Michael called, and the door slid open.

Carson Beckett entered. He crossed to the bed, sat on the edge, and with a look at Teyla, opened his arms.

Teyla slid into his embrace, sobbing. His hands felt hot where they cupped her pale cheeks.

"Ach, there, there lass, you're fine. I'm here." He tipped up her face and searched her eyes. "Let me have a look at you, now."

She flinched and squinted when the flash of his pen light penetrated her eyes. "Carson, tell me none of this is real. Tell me I am dreaming."

"I wish I could, but unfortunately, Michael speaks the truth." He took her pulse and performed a quick medical scan. "Would it make you feel better to speak with Rodney?" Her quick nod pulled a reluctant smile from the doctor. "I thought as much. I'll send him to see you shortly. First, let me give you something to help you relax." He pulled a syringe from his pocket and uncapped the long needle.

"No. I don't want to relax." Teyla scrambled backwards, colliding with Michael's chest. He held her arm while Beckett slid the needle in and depressed the plunger. She felt the prick and burn as the liquid invaded her body. The room turned fuzzy around the edges.

She watched Michael as he eased her down and adjusted the blankets, his eyes on Beckett's face. His question floated through the fog spreading in her mind. He asked about her health. Beckett's reply sounded warbled, but she caught most of it, indicated she had suffered a shock and needed time to adjust. Darkness loomed. She fought it, grabbing Michael's arm.

He leaned close, stroking her hair. "Rest; I'll be right here when you wake." His cornflower blue eyes creased as his lips whispered across her cheek, stirring her senses. Beckett stood to leave, and Michael rocked her as she slipped over the edge into drugged slumber.

**_TBC_**


	7. Chapter 7

**_Spoilers: Because of some similarities, this may contain unintentional spoilers up to and including Season 4, Vengeance. _**

_**Rating: T for some mild language.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of the characters associated with it.**_

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Ronon followed Beckett to an exam bed. He set Teyla on the crisp, white sheets and stepped out of the way. He watched the doctor run the medical scanner over her unresponsive body.

Beckett listened to her heart and lungs, felt her neck and throat with his gloved hands, and checked her eyes with his pen light, which twitched under the lids. Once finished, the doctor discarded his gloves, scribbled some notes on the data pad, and asked the nurse to change Teyla into scrubs. He turned to Ronon and, taking him by the elbow, led him to a bank of chairs lining one wall.

As they sat down, Ronon glanced up in time to see Weir and Sheppard tromp through the infirmary doors.

"Carson, what happened?" Elizabeth asked. She must have caught sight of Teyla before the nurse pulled closed the privacy curtain, because her forehead wrinkled.

"Ronon is about to explain, if you'd like to listen-"

"Oh, you can bet we wanna listen." Sheppard nodded at the doctor and then turned to Ronon. "Okay, Big Guy, tell me, did you get a little... overzealous during training and accidentally knock her out?"

"I told you I wouldn't hurt her. She halted our training. She teased me for being tired but then froze half-way through her sentence. She mumbled Michael's name right before she collapsed. I brought her here."

"She called for Michael?" Sheppard and Weir shared a look. "Why would she do that?"

"You're asking the wrong guy." Ronon studied the colonel's face, catching the tic in his cheek and the lined brow. "I wanted to killed him, remember?"

Weir patted his arm. "In hind sight, I'm glad you didn't. We have much to learn from Michael. She sighed and raked a hand through her dark curls. "I just hope there is an easy explanation for why Teyla called his name."

Sheppard shook his head. "Could she sense Michael from the distance between the gym and his cell?"

"Not likely." Weir turned to Beckett. "The sensors read him as an unidentified life form. Wouldn't his human side dull his psychic ability enough to keep her from sensing him through the force field around his holding cell?"

Beckett frowned. "He is a hybrid species, which might serve to either minimize or heighten his telepathy. I would not underestimate his ability to breach the force field and connect with Teyla."

"If Michael harms her, you won't have to decide what to do with him. I'll wipe him from existence." Ronon clenched his teeth and tried to steady his breathing.

"Ah, I don't think it'll come to that. Let's just see what Teyla says when she wakes up. She is going to wake up, right Doc?" Sheppard asked.

Beckett rubbed a hand over his chin. "Aye, as far as I can tell, she is fine. Her vitals are stable, although her heart rate is up a wee bit, and she appears to be in REM sleep. I will know more when she comes around and I can talk to her. If Michael did contact her..."

Weir cleared her throat. "I'll have Rodney run a diagnostic on the sensors when he is..." Weir turned as McKay slid into the room. "feeling better."

"I heard about Teyla. How is she?" McKay stopped in front of Weir and doubled over, panting.

Beckett hurried to McKay's side and rested a hand on the bent man's shoulder. "She's sleeping, which is what I ordered you to do when I prescribed bed rest in quarters. Would you rather I keep you in the infirmary? Severe dust allergies and concussions compounded by Athosian flu don't vanish without rest, Rodney."

McKay's head snapped up, and twin sets of blue eyes clashed. Beckett won when McKay's eyes rolled up, and he crumpled into a heap on the floor.

"John, help me get him into bed." Beckett and Sheppard grasped McKay by the arms and hauled him to his feet then half-carried, half-dragged him to the bed nearest Teyla.

McKay groaned as Beckett worked him over with the medical scanner.

"Ach, just as I suspected." Beckett flagged one of the medical assistants. "Jane, get him settled then start an IV drip and push fluids." He faced the group. "He's dehydrated, and his fever is a little worse. Bloody fool obviously didn't listen to my instructions. He'll be my guest for the next little while."

As Beckett stepped back, McKay roused, grabbing the doctor's lab coat sleeve. "Carson, I only came to check on Teyla. Let me go back to my own bed... please?" McKay's rough words huffed in and out through the congestion in his chest, but his watery eyes appeared sincere.

"No, son, I'm afraid you've worsened to the point where I need to keep an eye on you. It's scrubs and chicken broth for you, to be sure." Beckett patted McKay's hand and extracted himself from the ill scientist's weak grasp. Turning to the rest of the group, he continued, "Now, will the lot of you please leave my infirmary before you catch what he has." He thumbed over his shoulder at McKay's sweaty face, and the others scurried toward the exit.

"You'll let me know when Teyla awakens." Ronon's words came out more statement than question, his gaze on the closed curtain surrounding her bed.

"Aye, lad, I'll be calling you right after I talk to her." Beckett grinned and shooed him toward the hallway.

* * *

A voice called her name, beckoning her into the light. She followed, floating along an amber maze of flesh and bone, trailing her trembling fingers over the damp, pulsing walls. The veined skin surged at her touch, tried to absorb her essence. Tawny light flickered then disappeared as her hand connected with firm warmth. She squinted and tried to bring the world into focus. Beckett's blurry face drifted above her, a specter in a white cape. 

"Ah, there's a good lass. Look at me, Teyla." Beckett waived his hand in front of her eyes and smiled wide when she focused on his face.

Teyla shrank back, pinning the doctor with a glare. "Carson, what have you done to me?"

"I've done naught but treat you for a wee fainting spell and exhaustion, I would hazard. Are you feeling well?" Beckett frowned. "You're a bit flushed. Let's have a quick look at you, eh?" He pulled the stethoscope from around his neck and attached it to his ears then reached toward her with the flat end.

Teyla pressed back against the pillows and threw up a hand. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"About two hours. I suspect you overtaxed yourself today. What is it about restricted duty and rest my patients don't understand?" Becket shook his head.

"Colonel Sheppard and Ronon are alive?"

"Of course, dear. They were here until just a while ago. I sent them to dinner with a promise to notify them if you awoke." Beckett waved the stethoscope at her. "May I continue?"

"Certainly." Teyla exhaled and took her fear in a firm grip while Beckett listened to her heart. Sheppard and Ronon were alive, Michael and his Atlantis, nothing more than an unpleasant dream. She expelled a deep breath, her focus on relaxing each tense muscle beginning with her toes and working her way up. She had reached safety. Unless Carson lied. She kept her lids low, sneaking glances at the doctor while he ran the Ancient handheld scanner over her body.

After a few moments, Beckett set aside the scanner then scribbled some notes on his data pad. When he finished, he faced her. "As far as I can tell, there's not a thing wrong with you that a few days of rest won't cure. I imagine you were not fully recovered from Ronon's accidental stunner blast before you sparred with him in the gym."

"You are positive that Colonel Sheppard and Ronon live?"

"Are you having trouble with your memory?" Beckett shot her a confused frown. "Why would you think otherwise?"

"I had a rather vivid nightmare." She adjusted the blankets around her lap and shot Beckett a wry grin. "Michael became human and lived on Atlantis. Dr. Weir, Sheppard, Ronon were dead, killed in a Wraith attack. Only you, Rodney, and I still lived." Teyla shook off the memories and clenched her jaw. "He had me convinced of his reality; so authentic that your cologne lingers upon the air--spicy sea."

Beckett patted her hand, his eyes crinkled at the edges. "Now there's a thought. It has been quite some time since a sweet lass noticed my scent. Silly me, I didn't think to bring any cologne to this galaxy."

"Where is Michael?" Teyla asked.

"Still in the holding cell below Atlantis."

"Has he agreed to take the retrovirus?" Teyla grimaced when Beckett's jaw dropped.

"No. Why?"

"Is he well?"

"Yes, during my last medical check, he was meditating. Teyla, I can't help if you won't share with me." Beckett's mouth bore a reproving scowl.

"Meditation? I did not realize that Wraith meditate."

"Yes, well, it is odd to observe. Michael sits for hours, unmoving, eyes closed, his breathing shallow." Beckett shuffled his feet. "Quite unsettling if you ask me."

"Interesting. I shall have to pay him a visit and see this meditation for myself."

"I don't think Colonel Sheppard would approve, and I know Ronon would object." Beckett's lips turned up in a soft smile. "I've not seen our big friend display such emotion until today. You frightened a few years from Ronon's life when you fainted. It didn't help that Colonel Sheppard thought Ronon had injured you during your sparring session." Beckett chuckled. "They'll be glad to see for themselves that you're awake."

"As I will be glad to see them, for my dream felt far too real. I thought them dead and wish to dissuade myself of that notion." She turned at the sound of a low cough.

"Dead?" Sheppard asked from his lazy stance at the foot of her bed, Ronon by his side.

"It is a long story, Colonel; a nightmare better recounted after a bit of distance, if that is acceptable." Teyla lifted one eyebrow and tilted her head to the side, her fiery hair slid forward, grazing her cheek.

Sheppard cleared his throat and, with a glance at Ronon, gave her a casual shrug. "Sure, we can wait."

Ronon stepped forward, hovering, his solemn eyes on hers, before he reached out and tucked the loose hair behind her right ear. His fingers lingered for a heartbeat then his hand dropped. "You okay?"

"I am fine," she said.

"No you're not," Beckett cut in. "You're close to a bought of exhaustion. If you don't get some rest, you'll not get better."

Teyla's face blanched at the dual look of annoyed concern from her two teammates. "While it is true I have not slept well since returning from our last mission, I do not feel I am on the brink of exhaustion. Michael's presence disturbs my slumber."

"You and Michael became close the first time he visited Atlantis," Beckett said. "Perhaps there is a connection between you that caused your dream."

"No." Teyla shot a quelling glance at Ronon. "I have discussed this with Ronon. My concern for Michael is that of compassion for his situation—nothing more."

"By connection, I meant your gift." Beckett held her gaze, his sharp eyes missing nothing. "Have you experienced a connection with Michael again?"

Sheppard shifted, uncrossing his arms. He rested one hand on his holstered 9-mil, the other snaked out and landed in the center of Ronon's chest, halting the Satedan in mid turn. He gave the bigger man a slight negative headshake then let his hand drop to his side. "We'll deal with Michael later."

"No, not since the day we found him in the cabin. I have sensed his presence on Atlantis, nothing more." Teyla shrugged, hoping they wouldn't notice the slight tremor in her voice.

"What happened today did not strike me as a dream. You looked at me, lucid and awake. You spoke to me and then you fell unconscious," Ronon said.

"I do not understand what happened. I do know that what I experienced had to be a dream. How could it be anything else? When I awoke, all returned to normal."

"Michael is using your unconscious state to link with you. He came to you, didn't he? Can't you see that he is trying to manipulate you when you are vulnerable?" Ronon twisted away from Sheppard's grip and darted toward the gap in the curtains. "He will not live to see another meal."

"Ronon," Sheppard shouted after the runner. "Damn it, I told him to wait." With a grimace at Beckett and a shrug at Teyla, he turned and ran after his teammate.

"Well, now that they're gone, why don't you try and rest." Beckett lowered the bed to a more comfortable angle and pulled the blankets up a bit. He patted Teyla's shoulder. "I'll check on you in a few hours."

"Carson..." Teyla dipped her head when the doctor hovered near her elbow and wondered how a grown woman might tell her doctor she is afraid to go to sleep. She inhaled a deep breath and released it again before meeting Beckett's curious gaze. "Never mind. It is nothing, really."

Beckett's scrutiny never wavered. He merely returned her look with calm sincerity. "Ach, of course it is something. If it were nothing, you'd have never mentioned it in the first place. Now, what is it, exactly?"

Teyla shrugged off a sudden chill. "What if I have another dream? The last was overwhelming, intense. I felt lost, unable to control my own life. I do not wish to relive the experience."

"I'll prescribe something to help you sleep. It should keep dreams at bay." Beckett pulled a syringe from his lab coat pocket. "Honestly, I expected you to ask." He grinned as he swabbed her arm and injected the contents. "That should help. Can you feel the effects yet?"

Teyla nodded, or tried to, but her head had its own agenda and rolled to the side. Her world became fuzzy around the edges and the room swayed. Her arms and legs felt heavy, laden, unmovable. She opened her mouth to speak, but her thick tongue would not cooperate.

Beckett grinned. "I'll take that as a yes. Let me finish rounds, and I'll be back to check on you. If you become restless, I will wake you ."

As Teyla watched the doctor disappear from view, she relaxed into the mattress, welcoming the drug's pull toward oblivion.

_

* * *

TBC_


	8. Chapter 8

**_Spoilers: Because of some similarities, this may contain unintentional spoilers up to and including Season 4, Vengeance. _**

_**Rating: T for some mild language.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of the characters associated with it.**_

**

* * *

**

Chapter Eight

"Ronon, wait," Sheppard called as he jogged after the larger man. "Ronon!" He blew out a breath when Ronon slowed and then stopped, his arms hanging at his sides, his head bowed. Sheppard stopped next to him. "Hey, buddy, you okay? What was that, back there in the infirmary? The whole 'getting protective of Teyla' routine--she won't like that."

Ronon's head came up, his eyes landed on Sheppard. "I don't care. I'm tired of playing games. This is wrong. You know it. I know it. Weir knows it. Call it what you want, but we have to get rid of Michael before he hurts Teyla."

"See, I don't think we're there yet. I think we can use Michael to our advantage. Teyla will tell us if she needs backup. Until then, we wait."

"Wait...for what? For Michael to use her against us, or kill her? No. I'm telling you, Michael is a threat. He is the cause of Teyla's dreams."

"Can you prove that? Weir won't take action on a hunch."

"I don't have proof. I have thousands of years of history in this galaxy. I have the law of averages." Ronon's face twisted. "Sheppard, we can't let Michael near Teyla. We can't."

Sheppard dropped a hand on Ronon's shoulder and squeezed. "We won't. If we catch him messing with her mind, we will have proof for Weir. We can use it as leverage to get Michael to cooperate with us, take the retrovirus."

"Then what? We keep him as a docile pet?"

"I don't know. We'll figure it out when we get to that point. Trust me, would ya? Have I ever given you reason not to?" He watched Ronon's instinct battle with reason and relaxed when reason won. "C'mon, I'll buy dinner." He nudged his friend toward the transporter. "Problems tend to resolve themselves after a good meal."

"You'd better be right, or I might have to hurt you." Ronon stalked toward the transporter.

Sheppard shook his head. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he said under his breath as he followed Ronon.

* * *

"Wake up sleepyhead." 

Teyla shrugged off the hand shaking her shoulder and burrowed deeper into the soft bedding.

"Come on, Sweetie, I have to go to work, but I want to know what you thought of the cloth samples for the main room"

Teyla cracked open one eye and peered at the man sitting on the edge of the bed. "Michael." She rolled onto her back and slid away from him, glancing around the sleeping chamber. "What are you talking about?"

"The cloth samples I showed you last night, or have you forgotten?" He grinned at her as he leaned closer, dropping a light kiss on the tip of her nose. "I thought you might enjoy the iridescent green one. It reminds me of the ocean hues you find irresistible during our strolls along the pier."

"Yes, of course. Ocean green is perfect." She ran unsteady fingers through her hair. "Where is Dr. Beckett?"

Michael's smile slipped. "I assume he is in the infirmary. Why? Do you feel unwell?"

Teyla shot him a quick smile, hoping he would not look too deep, see too much. "No, I am fine. I promised to accompany him to lunch one day soon. I thought today might be a good day to do so." She tossed back the covers and grabbed the robe draped over the bed corner, slipping it on as she crossed to the bathing chamber. "I'm going to wash and dress. Do not let me keep you from your duties. Where will you be working today?"

"In the lab with Rodney. We're studying a file he discovered in the ancient database, something he feels might lead us to grand discoveries or some such drabble. Days like this, I miss Sheppard. He had a way of keeping McKay in line that no one else can duplicate."

"Yes, John and Rodney have—I mean had—a unique relationship. Please give my regards to Rodney." Teyla gave a small wave as she darted into the bathing chamber and passed a hand over the door controls, closing it behind her.

Twenty minutes later, clean and dressed in workout gear, she made her way to the gym. She considered stopping to see Carson on the way, but hesitated, her instincts screaming not to trust this version of the doctor. Besides, her need to expend energy outweighed the need for company.

She entered the gym and crossed to the storage nook, pulling aside the curtain and revealing the contents within. A soft smile played over her mouth. She reached out and caressed the fighting sticks, her trembling fingers trailed over familiar nicks and bumps imprinted over a lifetime of fighting, her father's and now hers.

She removed the sticks from the storage mount and crossed to the practice mat. She placed the sticks on the mat with great care before she ran through a stretching routine to warm her muscles. Once limber, she began a light sparing practice of basic defensive moves, spins, and kicks, her legs and arms a blur of motion. After a time, she retrieved the sticks and began twisting them. Faster and faster, she twirled her body and the sticks. She hefted them above her head and, with a leap, brought them down on an imaginary enemy.

"Impressive."

Teyla reigned in her next move and spun to face the voice.

"Easy, lass. I didn't mean to startle you." Beckett stood just inside the doorway, hands tucked into his pockets, wearing a lopsided grin. "I ran into Michael and he mentioned you might be interested in having lunch together."

"Lunch. Oh, yes, of course, if you would like to dine with me, I would enjoy the company." Teyla retrieved her towel and wiped down her sticks before stowing them away for another day. "A late lunch would be best. I plan to continue my workout with a jog along the outer city walls."

"Of course, my dear. Don't overdo it, though. You wouldn't want to harm the wee one."

"Wee one?"

"Aye, the wee one you'll be bringing into this world in another eight months or so. You haven't forgotten, have you?"

"Ah, no, I have not forgotten. I have not grown accustomed to the idea yet, that is all." Teyla glanced down. "I will do nothing to harm the...wee one."

"Michael didn't bring it up when we spoke. When are you going to tell him?"

"Soon, Carson. I will tell him soon." Teyla brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and gave the doctor a quick smile. "I will see you at the noon meal, yes?" She grasped his elbow and steered him toward the door.

"Yes, see you then." Beckett enveloped her in a quick hug then headed toward the infirmary.

Teyla reentered the gym and sank onto the window seat. She placed a hand on her flat stomach and closed her eyes. Her mind focused on the center of herself, and connected with the bud of life blooming within. The child's mind latched onto Teyla's, tugging and suckling at her with immature, instinctive purpose. Teyla's heart felt at once made of ice, yet warm with swelling emotions upon which she could not dwell.

She lurched up from the window seat, tossed the towel around her shoulders, and headed for the East pier. Once there, she eased into a jog. Pregnant. How had that happened? Well, she knew how, but not when. She did not recall that kind of intimacy with Michael, but then, this world didn't exist, except in her dreams. Right? In the real Atlantis, her friends lived. Reality, though fraught with Wraith, held far more appeal than this odd version. She jogged onward; the azure sky and emerald sea streaked her peripheral vision, taking on the appearance of a two-colored rainbow. Home beckoned, but how to return.

The thought came from nowhere, startling her enough that she stumbled, throwing out her arms for balance. She bent over, gasping, hands on her knees. Sleep is the trigger, she thought. Each time I sleep, I wake in the opposite Atlantis. No time like the present to test a theory. She turned and sprinted to the nearest transporter.

Once in her quarters, she showered and then stretched out on the bed, trying to relax enough to rest. Her heart pounded a fast tempo and her breathing hitched. She waited. Minutes ticked to an hour, then crept toward noon. Unable to sleep, she tossed and turned, her fists bunched in the coverlet. She forced her fingers to relax, forced the rest of her body to follow suit, until she felt heavy, and her lids drooped.

Roused by a melodic chime, Teyla sat up in the bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Enter," she called, and smiled when Beckett opened the door. "Carson, I am happy to see you. I had another dream..." She watched his eyes sharpen, warning tingles danced across the nape of her neck. "What brings you to my quarters?"

"Our lunch date. When you stood me up, I decided to check on you myself. I'm glad you took my advice and got some rest."

Teyla's eyes widened. "Our lunch date. I'm sorry, I must have dozed for a while." She frowned as she rose and moved toward the bathing chamber. "Just let me freshen up. After that, we can eat. I am quite hungry."

Once behind the closed door, she slumped onto the vanity stool and cradled her head in her hands. Everything about this reality screamed wrong. She knew she had slept, if only for a moment or two, but why had she not returned home? She stood and doused her face with cool water, patting it dry before running a brush through her hair and pinning it up into a loose ponytail. She looked at her reflection, sizing up the pale skin and sallow shadows framed and presented in the garish light. Pinching some pink into her cheeks, she turned with a sigh and joined Beckett for lunch.

* * *

That afternoon, Teyla wandered the halls, nodding at the scientists and military she passed. Some she knew. Most she did not. Michael had not lied when he said the Wraith had all but obliterated the original expedition. She shook off the musings, surprised to find herself outside McKay's lab. After a moment's hesitation, she entered. 

The astrophysicist did a double take when he spotted her hovering in the doorway.

"Teyla, what a surprise. What brings you down here? Not that I don't want to see you. It's just, ever since Michael became my second in charge, you don't spend much time here." He came around the table and enveloped her in a crushing hug. He pulled back, his face tinged with red. "Ah, it's good to see you out and about. So how're you feeling? Carson says you've been having flashbacks to the good old days, hmm? You know remembering isn't healthy for you, or the baby." He gave her stomach an awkward pat.

"You know about the baby?" she asked.

"Of course. You don't remember rushing to my quarters to tell me right after Carson told you?" He frowned. "Is your memory playing hide and seek again? You should tell Carson. He is worried about you."

"No! Rodney, I am fine. I think the baby devours my memory." She forced a smile and patted his arm. "You have not said anything to Michael about the baby?"

"You asked me not to, and I haven't, but I think you should tell him soon. You know I can't keep secrets for long."

"I will tell him tonight. You must let our daughter call you 'Uncle Rodney." A genuine smile crept across her lips at his expression.

"Uncle Rodney. I like the sound of that. I love kids, you know. Always have. Why, I used to tell Sheppard that I planned to have a dozen of them if only I found the right woman. I envy you and Michael."

Her smile slipped a notch. The Rodney she knew despised children by default. No matter how tempting, she needed to return home to her real team, her real life.

"I am glad you are happy for us, Rodney. Do not worry. You will find the perfect woman when the time is right. Where is Michael?"

"I sent him home early. I thought you two might need some 'alone' time." McKay raised his eyebrows and waggled his fingers.

"Thanks, Rodney." She gave him a light kiss on the cheek then turned to leave. She could think of no reason to avoid her quarters any longer. Time to deal with Michael.

* * *

Candlelight cast flickering shadows around the room when she entered her quarters. Michael sat in an easy chair, a glass of wine cupped in one hand and a bushel of pawkesh in the other. He rose, moving to her side and handing her the wine and the flower. He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, gentle as an ocean breeze. 

"My love, come sit. I feel your exhaustion." He took her hand and led her to the balcony.

Someone had set a table with her favorite Athosian foods, the scent of grilled sea roper, which Sheppard had likened to the Salmon of Earth, pulled a growl from her stomach.

Michael grinned and pressed her into a cushioned chair. "I sensed you might not wish to eat in the cafeteria tonight. How did you spend your day?" He sat across from her and poured himself a glass of wine.

"I worked out, I napped, and I lunched with Carson. In the afternoon, I walked around Atlantis, taking in the beautiful scenery and thinking about my life. I stopped by the lab and chatted with Rodney, then returned here, to you and this wonderful meal. Thank you, Michael." She studied his face in the candle glow. The blue of his eyes, darkened to ocean gray, sparkled with emotion and his full lips quirked upward.

Michael leaned across the table and took her hand. "I am glad you approve. I have felt a distance between us these last few weeks. I miss you, Teyla. My life is nothing if you will not share it with me. I promised to make you happy. Have I not done so? Do you lack for anything? Tell me what to do to make your eyes shine once again with love."

"Oh, Michael...I am sorry if I have been distant. You have done nothing to cause me unhappiness. I miss my friends, nothing more."

He squeezed her hand and gave her a tight smile. "It seems I am doomed to jealous envy of your memories. Unfair, I know, but I feel it still." He let go her hand and focused his eyes on the distant horizon. "I fear I will never make you happy."

She rose and moved around the table, kneeling at his feet. "Michael, you have made me happy." Reaching up, she turned his face toward her. "Do not trouble over my memories. They cannot harm our lives in this place. Nothing can."

"But they do. We are bonded, remember? When you hurt, I hurt. When you remember, I see. I taste your sorrow as I would my own, and it is bitter. You keep secrets, Teyla." He took his wine and put the glass to her lips. "Drink. It is your favorite."

"As we are bonded, I believe you know that I cannot." She pushed away the glass. "I carry your daughter. No matter our circumstances, I would not harm her."

Michael set aside the cup and pulled Teyla into his lap. He tipped her face up and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. "Yes, I knew of your condition. I longed to hear the news from your lips. Now eat. My daughter is hungry, and I fear she enjoys grilled sea roper as much as her mother." He scooped up a fork full and fed her.

She ate every bite. He captivated her with his easy laugh and gentle humor. She chortled at his impression of McKay on the rampage, and his stories of the day-to-day running of Atlantis. When he tucked her head under his chin and pulled a light blanket over her shoulders to ward off the evening zephyr, she snuggled closer. She fought sleep, wanting to explore more of this Michael, but the rumble of his voice deep in his chest tickled her ear and lulled her into dreams. Dreams of home.

* * *

_**TBC**_


	9. Chapter 9

**_Spoilers: Because of some similarities, this may contain unintentional spoilers up to and including Season 4, Vengeance. _**

_**Rating: T for some mild language.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of the characters associated with it.**_

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Chapter Nine

Sheppard peeked into Beckett's office. "Hey, Doc. I'm heading to bed but wanted to check on Teyla before I go."

"She's sleeping like a baby. I gave her a sedative to help keep away any dreams. It seems to be working." Beckett yawned and stretched in his seat. "It won't be long before I pass the torch to the night crew and head to bed myself. I promised Teyla I'd stick around for a while and wake her if she became restless."

"I'm sure she appreciates it. We don't tell you enough how much we value your ministrations." Sheppard stepped into the office and threw an offhand shrug at the doctor. "I know I can be a bit of a...challenging patient, but I wouldn't want to get sick or injured without you around to treat my ills."

Beckett coughed out a laugh. "While you do make an interesting patient, Rodney demands by far my most...tolerant treatment technique."

"Really. Well, that's good to know." Sheppard scratched his head and hesitated, wondering how one deceives an honest doctor and good friend? With a mental shake, he knew--one doesn't. "Ah, listen, I thought I might camp out here for the night. You know, so if Teyla awakens, she won't be alone, or whatever."

"There's really no need, Colonel. She's fine."

"Yeah, I know. So you said. Doc, here's the thing. I had a talk with Ronon, and what he says makes sense. If Michael is somehow attacking Teyla using his thoughts, well, I need proof. I can't get proof if I'm not here while she sleeps. Think of it as a security issue." Sheppard crossed his arms and stared at Beckett.

"If you put it like that, it seems logical. Come on, lad. I'll set you up in a bed. Of course, you'll have to deal with Rodney. This flu bug amplifies his snoring." Beckett led Sheppard into the darkened infirmary, raising fingers to his lips. "I hope this is to your liking." He indicated the bed next to Teyla.

"I'm military. I can sleep on a rock. Don't worry about Rodney. I'm used to hearing him snore when we're on overnight missions." Sheppard removed his boots and jacket, setting both on the chair then unbuckled his handgun holster, positioning it within easy reach, before climbing into the bed. "G'night Doc."

Beckett eyed the weapon then eyed Sheppard. "I hope you're not planning to use that bloody thing in my infirmary."

"I never plan to use my weapon, but I've learned to keep it handy, just in case." Sheppard turned on his side and faced Teyla's sleeping form. He punched the pillow a few times, making a big dent in the middle into which he tucked his head, spiked hair and all.

Beckett stepped forward and pulled up the blankets, draping them around Sheppard's shoulders. "Here you go. We don't want you to catch a chill."

"Hey, I'm not sick, remember? I'm grateful for the help, but I don't want some medical assistant sticking me in the ass with a big needle while I'm sleeping. Put some kind of sign on my bed, will ya Doc?" He yawned.

Beckett patted Sheppard's hip and turned to leave. "Get some rest, Colonel. Tomorrow will likely be a busy day, full of Rodney gripes."

"Great," Sheppard managed. "Just great." His eyes drifted shut.

* * *

Teyla startled awake, confused for a moment by the stereophonic snores from either bedside. She glanced left then right, the sight of Sheppard and McKay, sound asleep, pulled her lips into a slight smile. Her hands shot to her stomach as her mind searched, finding no spark of life. Her psyche rejected the emptiness, molten fire burned, and she reached out. 

"_Michael!"_

_"I am here. Come."_

Teyla stumbled from the bed, careful not to wake Sheppard as she tiptoed past the room where the night shift physician slept on a cot. She made for the transporter that would take her below, to him.

She raced out of the transporter and subdued the guards without conscious thought, her only need, to see Michael. She entered the holding room and pulled up short.

Michael waited, bathed in dim nighttime lighting, his skin tinted blue, not the Michael of her dreams.

_"Teyla, breathe."_

_"What?"_

_"Breathe, or you will make yourself ill."_ He stepped closer to the bars, his eyes fixed on hers.

Teyla fought to control the hitching breaths, stepped closer to the cell. _"Our daughter..."_

"_Is not real. None of it is real."_

_"You are doing this to me! Why? Why would you hurt me?"_

_"I am not doing this. Why would I? To do so would solidify the Atlanteans against me."_

_"Then how is this happening? When I should be sleeping here, I am there, with you and our child. When I sleep there, I am back here. I get no real rest. I am so tired, Michael. You must stop, or I will die of exhaustion."_

_"Please trust what I say. In order to make it stop, you must submit to the dream while you are experiencing it. To fight it causes you undue stress. I am trying to help, but Sheppard and Ronon do not trust me. As soon as I convince them of my sincerity, I will help you free yourself from the dreams."_

_"She is not real? Our daughter? How is this possible? I felt her, connected with her as we are now. How can she not be real?"_ Teyla slid to the floor, sobbing. Somewhere, in the distance she heard claxons erupt.

Michael knelt opposite her. _"Teyla, listen to me. You must go. Your people will investigate. They cannot find you here, or they will never allow me near you."_

_"I will ask John to allow your assistance."_

_"No. They will assume I manipulated you into asking. Let me try to sway them with the truth. Go. Now. Find somewhere peaceful and allow your mind the rest it needs. Hurry!"_

She fought for the strength to rise, relieved when it bubbled up from within, lifting her to her feet. With a nod at Michael, she turned and fled the room.

* * *

The claxons erupted in a deafening alert, yanking Sheppard from a dream about the brunette entomologist with the striking green eyes and plump pink lips. He leapt from the hospital bed, stuffed his feet into his boots, and laced them with practiced speed. As he strapped on his weapon and shrugged into his jacket, he glanced at Teyla's unoccupied bed. 

"Damn, what is she up to now."

"What's happening?" McKay asked, his voice slurred with sleep. "I'm coming too." He lifted his blankets and made to climb down from the bed, but became tangled in the mass of wires and leads attached to his person. "Wait for me."

"Not now, McKay!"

Sheppard flagged one of the scrambling medical personnel and waived in McKay's direction. "Somebody keep him here." One of the nurses nodded, and satisfied, Sheppard sprinted from the infirmary, heading for the gate room at a full run.

When he slid through the opening into the large gate room, he glanced up and spotted Weir and Ronon hovering behind Zelenka who sat at one of the monitoring consoles. He jogged up the stairs to the control room.

"What's up?"

"The system detected multiple energy spikes in the shield around Michael's cell—again." Zelenka tugged at a tuft of hair and squinted at the monitor. "I cannot isolate the cause."

"Would you like to join me? I want to speak with Michael." Weir quirked an eyebrow at Sheppard and smiled.

"Oh yeah, I don't want you alone with him. I don't trust him." Sheppard led the way out of the gate room toward the cell.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Weir stated.

"Well call me over-protective, but I prefer the good-cop, bad-cop routine, you know? I say double-team him."

"I favor a triple team, myself," Ronon said as he fell in step behind Sheppard.

Sheppard threw a grin over his shoulder at Ronon. "Who'd you think I had in mind to play bad cop?"

When they entered the holding room, they found Michael pacing the length of the cell. He turned and fixed his gaze on Weir.

"I need to speak with Teyla."

Sheppard stepped forward and cocked his head. "What's your urgency?"

"I can help her."

"Is that what you call it... help?" Ronon raked his eyes over Michael's face. "What are you trying to pull? We detected repeated spikes in the shield. And what makes you think we'd let you any where near Teyla?"

"I have done nothing to your precious shield. As for Teyla...my reasons are of a personal nature."

"Sorry, not gonna cut it. Besides, Teyla is," Sheppard shared a look with Weir, then continued, "indisposed. Maybe I can give her a message?"

"That is unacceptable. I need to speak with her in private. I'll go to her if I must."

"Try it," Ronon said, his lips curved in a snarl. "I dare you."

"Easy, big guy," Sheppard murmured, placing a restraining hand on the Satedan's heaving chest.

"Ronon, in appreciation of your honesty, I will admit I am willing to risk death to speak with Teyla."

"Sorry, buddy, but that's not happening, not unless you can tell us why you want to see her." Sheppard frowned at Ronon, motioning for the man to remain silent.

"I told you, I can help with the dreams--"

Ronon stepped around Sheppard and leaned down, staring into Michael's face through the cell bars. "You want to help? Quit forcing your way into her dreams."

Michael's lips turned up in a snarl of his own. He took two steps forward and sniffed, inhaling Ronon's scent. "I realize you hate me, but we both care for Teyla... don't we? I won't harm her."

Sheppard dragged Ronon back and pinned him with a glare before turning to face Michael. "If you care about Teyla, then the best thing you can do is leave her alone. Don't visit her dreams. Don't contact her. She needs rest. Stay out of her head."

"I am not in her head, at least not the way you think. I can cure her." Michael looked at Weir. "Dr. Weir, please, I'll cooperate in any way, under any restrictions you wish to set in place. I need to see Teyla, to free us both."

"I don't think that's a good idea right now, but we'll keep in mind your kind offer." Sheppard nodded at the group to exit the room.

As they departed, Michael reached out with pale fingers. "Dr. Weir, you'll regret not listening to me--" The door whooshed shut and silence blanketed the air.

"John, do you think that wise? He sounded sincere, and he did know Teyla is unwell. Perhaps he can stop the dreams." Weir leaned against the wall and folded her arms across her chest.

Sheppard caught her concerned gaze as it skimmed over him and then his glowering teammate.

"Elizabeth, he's bluffing. Come on." Sheppard urged them toward the infirmary, smiling when Weir shoved away from the wall and fell in step beside him. "He is using our concern for Teyla as leverage to convince us to help him.

"Well, his only viable option is to take the Retrovirus-M. What other choice does he have?"

"He could have spent ten minutes with me. I'd have taken care of his future. I still can." Ronon gave Weir an evil grin when she shot an affronted glance his way. "If he is worthy, he will welcome death."

Sheppard entered the infirmary first, his eyes searching for and finding Beckett hovering near McKay's bed. The doctor nodded and passed his data pad to the duty nurse before crossing the room.

"Colonel, I seem to be missing a patient. Did she sneak by you, lad?"

"Apparently, Doc, but we'll find her. I'm sure she slipped away for a little privacy. I realize you love the infirmary, however for those of us with frequent visitor points, well, let's just say the accommodations wear on a person." Sheppard fought a grin. "I bet she is in her quarters freshening up. She slept through the nigh without any dreams. I'll check in a bit, maybe drag her to breakfast."

"See that you do." Beckett shook his finger at Sheppard. "I hope your mothering instincts are better than your guard duty skills."

"Hey, not fair. Teyla is probably the one person who could get past me like that." Sheppard's head turned at the soft cough and he gave a slight bow. "Well, Ronon and Teyla, I mean. Doc, how is Rodney?"

"Resting comfortably as far as I can tell. His fever broke late last night and I'm inclined to release him after breakfast." Beckett grinned at the shared glance between the two leaders. "Did my missing patient have anything to do with the early-morning alarms?"

Sheppard listened as Weir brought Beckett up to speed with Michael's request. He wondered if the doctor felt any sympathy towards the wayward Wraith.

"Well, if the lad says he can help, perhaps we should let him try." Beckett shot a look between Weir and Sheppard.

"No way. You people can't be considering his request. How many times must I remind you that he is Wraith? This is Teyla we're talking about. If she were in her right mind, she wouldn't want his help." Ronon paced a small path between the empty bed and the wall.

"Normally I would agree, but if Teyla dreamed again last night, we may have no choice but to allow Michael's assistance." Beckett stared at the floor, his brow wrinkled.

"But she didn't dream last night. Did she?" Weir asked.

"I don't know, lass. Thanks to her disappearing act, I've not seen her this morning."

Sheppard caught the hesitation in Beckett's voice. "So you're saying she may have dreamed even though she slept peacefully?"

"Aye, that's true. Until we ask her, we don't know."

"I think we need to find our beautiful dreamer, the sooner the better." Sheppard turned to Ronon. "Come on, let's go."

"And Michael?" Ronon asked.

"We'll keep him around for now. If Teyla doesn't get any better, we may need to take Michael up on his offer--under strict supervision, of course." Weir said.

"I hope it doesn't come to that." Sheppard loped out of the infirmary wearing Ronon as his shadow.

_**TBC

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**__**A/N: Thanks to those who keep reading and reviewing. It helps! (grins)**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Spoilers: **__**Because of some similarities, this may contain unintentional spoilers up to and including Season 4, Vengeance. **_

_**Rating: T for some mild language.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of the characters associated with it.

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**Chapter Ten**

Teyla staggered into her quarters and made for the bathing room. She yanked up the toilet lid seconds before her stomach rejected its meager contents. Sweat beaded her brow, the excess running down her neck and disappearing beneath her silver sleeveless shirt. Left with nothing but dry heaves, she gave herself a mental shake, shoved away from the toilet, and leaned against the wall, letting the cool metal sooth heat from her back and shoulders.

Her eyes drifted closed as she focused inward, matching her breathing to the sound of the ocean, the natural ebb and flow essential to all living things. She rested, afraid she might lose the ability to distinguish dream from reality, might lose herself in a world of make-believe, yearning for a life that could never be. She could by no means have a child with Michael. Could she? Their child would form a new species, created from hybrids. Would the child be an innocent oddity or an enemy able to bring about the demise of both wraith and human societies?

No, impossible. She rejected the thought with enough force to spawn an ache behind her eyes. To the Athosian people, dreams reflect life lessons, bring clarity to chaos, and reveal the true nature of ones existence. She must do as Michael advised and find her center. She needed to ground herself before the next dream or risk disappearing into the chasm she sensed waited just beyond the darkness.

Before she could gather enough energy to rise, fists beat a frantic pattern on the outer quarter doors.

"Teyla, are you in there? Open up!"

Her lips twitched. She had known he would check on her. The next sound confirmed what she had suspected—he had not come alone.

"Teyla, open this door or I'll bust it down."

"Bust it down? Why would you bust it down when I can open it with a security override?"

"Because it would make me feel better. I need to work off a little anger and you won't let me touch Michael. Move over. I'm going in."

"Enter." She hoped the verbal command held enough strength to reach the door sensor, thankful when the door whooshed open just as Ronon charged toward it with a lowered left shoulder. She fought back a weak laugh as the Satedan thundered through the open doorway, his feet spinning as he fought to find purchase. He looked as relieved as she felt when he regained his balance, sliding to a halt a foot away from her.

"You okay?"

"I am fine."

"You don't look fine," Sheppard said as he ambled up behind Ronon. "In fact, you look decidedly un-fine, which is saying a lot, because under normal conditions, you look damn good."

Ronon threw a dark look at Sheppard before he squatted down, facing her. His large hand captured her chin and angled her face up into the natural light. "You have shadows under your eyes. I know he ordered you to rest, but I don't think Doc meant for you to comply on the hard, cold floor." He released her chin and stood, offering a hand. "The bed would be better."

Teyla studied Ronon's eyes, catching dark emotions swirling within. She sighed and accepted his offer, losing her hand to his massive grip. He surprised her with his gentleness. Once on her feet, Ronon swept her off the ground and strode toward the bed.

"Ronon, this is unnecessary. I can walk."

"I know."

"If you do not release me at once, I'll-" He opened his arms and let her fall. The impact with the mattress trapped the remaining threat in her throat.

"Thank you." She wiggled into a more comfortable position before shooting both men her best 'Leader of the Athosian People' expression. "I am not an invalid. I can take care of myself."

"I don't know. You still look a little pale. Maybe I should have Ronon carry you back to Doc Beckett for a second opinion on this whole released to quarters thing."

"I do not wish to harm you, Colonel Sheppard, so I suggest you do no such thing." She crossed her arms and glared at her team leader.

Sheppard mimicked her crossed arms, his that much more intimidating when his hazel eyes sharpened into glacial sea green. "I'll make it an order if I have to." He let out a breath then sank onto the mattress. "On a normal day, that threat would carry weight. Today, you couldn't win against Jinto. I'm worried about you."

"We," Ronon bit out, "are worried that Michael may hurt you. You dreamt last night, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did, but Michael is not behind my dreams."

"How can you be sure?" Sheppard asked.

"He is the only one who understands what I am going through, the only one who can help." Teyla rubbed at her throbbing forehead, pushing against the ache. She needed peace and quiet in which to meditate. She needed to distract her would-be rescuers, but how?

"You're in pain," Sheppard squeezed her shoulder. "So I'll excuse that comment. Michael is the one trying to hurt you, not the one who understands you. We are a team. You are one of us. If anyone can help you, it is this team. After breakfast, Rodney will begin working to figure out what is causing your dreams. He can solve this mystery. Not Michael."

Teyla's head snapped up and she bit back a moan as waves of pain crashed behind her eyes. "Why isn't Rodney staying in the infirmary?"

"Because Doc plans to let him out on good behavior." Sheppard reached over and tugged her hands away from her head then began a slow massage of her temples. "McKay's fever broke last night, and he drove the infirmary staff crazy with his demands. It was all we could do to keep him in bed when we realized you were missing. He just wants to help. We all do."

Teyla felt the tension drain away as Sheppard's fingers worked magic against her headache. "I appreciate your efforts. Perhaps if I try and rest my mind, I might feel better." She pulled back and glanced from Sheppard to Ronon, one eyebrow arched high. She held her breath at Ronon's hard look and released a sigh when he nodded.

"Come on Sheppard, let her relax." Ronon tugged at Sheppard's shirt and nudged the colonel toward the doorway. "You go. I'll catch up."

Sheppard paused in the doorway, sharing a look with the larger man before he nodded and disappeared into the hall.

Ronon leaned down and captured Teyla's gaze with perceptive eyes. "Stay away from Michael. No more secret visits."

Teyla gasped. "You know?"

"I had a gut feeling, but didn't want to believe it. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Not fair, Ronon. You tricked me."

"It's fair when you're not honest with me—with us. Did you realize that when you visit Michael you set off the sensors? No? Well it won't be long before McKay discovers the cause. Is Michael trying to convince you to set him free, to run away with him?"

"No! He means only to help. I swear it."

"Stay away from him, or I will kill him."

"You would not disobey Colonel Sheppard's order."

"Visit him again and see. I know how to stage an accident. Sheppard would never know."

Teyla studied Ronon's face, his amber pupils flecked with orange flames, the flared nostrils and thinned lips turned back to reveal sharp incisors gnashing as he fought to control his breathing.

"Please, do not tell the others of my visits."

"Promise me you will not visit Michael again, that you will give McKay a chance to find a solution."

"I promise."

"Then I will keep quiet because," Ronon ran a hand over her hair and cupped her chin, his face relaxing a fraction. "I owe you one secret. Do not make me regret this." He dropped his hand and left without looking back.

Teyla glanced around. Her home felt vacant without the comfort of her friends. She climbed from the bed and lit several candles. Their soothing fragrance filled the space as she pulled the window coverings closed, darkening the room. She settled into a comfortable meditating position in the middle of the carpet, inhaling and exhaling long, slow breaths. She emptied her mind and focused on the candle in front of her, studied the flickering flame as it danced a hypnotic rhythm. The flame grew taller, brighter, until the room fell away, enveloping her in a warm cocoon of glowing ginger.

"You found a peaceful place. That's good." Michael appeared in the center of glowing light. "This is much better than the field where we first bonded back on the planet. You are exhausted."

"Bonded. That is what the Michael of my dreams called our relationship. I thought it a dream. So, we are bonded?"

He stepped forward and crouched down. "Yes. Somehow, Ronon's stunner forged a bond that the dreams revealed. In order to break the bond, you must listen to the Michael of your dreams."

"Can you not tell me how to dissolve the bond?"

"I know how to break the bond, but you must follow your own journey to discover the way. Your decision must be pure and free from outside influence, especially mine. The dreams are a product of your own mind. I am a mere observer because of the bond we share. You have the power to free us both. When the time comes, do not hesitate. Do what must be done."

"Michael, you speak in riddles. Please, you said you would help me."

"Indeed I will. That is why I asked you to rest your mind, to free yourself enough that I could join you this way, to guide you." He sat cross-legged on the carpet and gave her a level look. "Liberate your thoughts, you fears. Absorb with all your senses the soft rug beneath your fingers, the scent of pawkesh candles," He took her hand and placed it against his chest. "The beat of my heart, the sky in my eyes. Let go."

Teyla listened to his low voice and stared into his eyes, not surprised when the blue orbs grew in size until all she could see was a vast sky dotted with white clouds. Seagulls drifted overhead and ocean waves lapped her toes in a gentle caress. She blinked and stirred the waves with her toes. She glanced down and drew in a sharp breath.

She sat perched on the edge of the pier with her feet dangling into the water; her swollen belly glinted in the sunlight. The child within rolled over, stretching her flesh with a protruding foot or a hand, she did not know which. She clutched at her stomach in awe. A little person grew within. Love swelled, unbidden, flooding her mind, followed by sorrow at knowing this could never be real.

"There you are. You must stop disappearing like that. I began to worry when you didn't meet me for lunch."

Teyla turned and found Michael standing behind her, picnic basket in hand. She patted the ground. "Please join me. We have the gift of a beautiful day. Let us not waste it."

Michael plopped down next to her and opened the basket. "Hungry?"

"Ravenous." She accepted the offered plate of food with a smile. "Thank you. I am sorry if I worried you. I did not mean to. I am surprised you did not know where to find me. Does not our bond allow you to know where I am at all times?"

Michael studied her face while he chewed his food. "You would think so, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I would." She set aside the plate and wiped her hands on the cloth napkin he passed to her. "I do not wish to hurt you, but there is no easy way to say this. I know that none of this is real, not you, not our child, none of it. If you love me, really love me, you will help me return to my reality."

Michael froze with his fork halfway to his lips. "Of course this is real. How can you doubt it?" He shoved his food aside and pointed at her belly. "Our child grows within your body yet you doubt the truth? If Carson hears you speak this way, he will admit you to the psych ward until after our child is born. Is that what you want?"

"Michael, remain calm. Where do you think I go when I disappear, when you cannot sense my presence? I only wish to return home. The Michael in my reality sent me here to find answers, to break free of these dreams. This life has appeal, but my real life awaits. My team needs me there. Will you help me?"

"No!" He rose and began throwing food back into the basket, scattering fruit across the pier. "I love you. I will not help you slip away from the life and family we built here. Our love is real, Teyla. I will never let you go." He slammed closed the lid and grabbed her elbow, hauling her to her feet. He nudged her toward Atlantis. "We're going home." He yanked her around to face him and pulled her into his embrace. "You will love me." He crushed her mouth in a desperate kiss, his lips quivering against hers.

She felt his fear and desperation in her mind, understood his need to claim her as his own. She acquiesced for the moment, accepting the dream as instructed. She grasped Michael's face between her hands and stroked his hair.

His kiss gentled. He pulled back and stared at her with wounded eyes.

"I'm sorry. You are correct. I am being foolish, perhaps afraid of impending motherhood. I am not going anywhere." She brushed her lips over his. "Take me home."

He retrieved the basked and tucked her arm through his, starting for the transporter. "I'll take care of you, forever."

She let him lead her onward, processing his words, his actions. This Michael would be no help. She must discover the way by herself. She only hoped she would recognize the answer when it presented itself.

_**TBC**__**

* * *

A/N: Sorry it has been so long since I posted. Personal events in R/L have shaken my emotional core. I continue the struggle to recover my equilibrium. My writing has suffered, as I have felt emotionally drained and empty of inspiration. I had a smidgen of this chapter written before my crisis, but struggled to finish it without damaging the story. I hope that I succeeded. **_


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